


The Fakes

by LolaDGomez



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - GTA AU, Bigotry & Prejudice, Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Homophobia/Transphobia, Crimes & Criminals, Death, Fake AH Crew, Found Family, Gen, Graphic Violence, Guns, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Murder, Mutilation, No Romance, No Smut, Organized Crime, Panic Attacks, Torture, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 78,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LolaDGomez/pseuds/LolaDGomez
Summary: After travelling across the country to escape his past, Jeremy Dooley finds himself in the city where crime runs rampant and is the home to The Fakes, the most dangerous and infamous crew west of the Mississippi River.Written for NaNoWriMo 2017





	1. Chapter 1

_“It may not be the life you imagined, but it’s your life. You came here for a reason. Is it time for you to go and begin again?”_

_―_ **Doug Cooper, Outside In**

* * *

Sleet splashed furiously against his windows as he drove down the long, haunting road, his car the only sign of life for miles. The night sky was suffocating and claustrophobic, his breath coming out in short pants. Jeremy Dooley was in the definition of nowhere, somewhere hidden away, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He had to go further. Into the remotest reaches of this country. He had to go until the flora and the architecture was brand new, where he had no understandings of the rules of the land. Had to go as far as his beloved car and his money could take him. If this journey took a week, a year, or even his whole life - he just had to get far, far away.

He hadn’t taken much with him. Just the clothes he was wearing, his life savings in cash shoved into a backpack he hadn’t used in years, and the car he had saved up for when he was a teenager. A car he would have to part with as soon as he could. He breathed heavily and stared out into the night, eyes blurring as they struggled to focus.

He had to get away. Get away, get away...

* * *

_It had been a cold winter’s night, when his life changed. The air fresh in the new year, snow settled on the ground in a large blanket, covering every surface in Boston. Its  streets had been cleared, gritters chugging down the roads slowly and coughing out thick black exhausts as they worked. In a narrow alleyway, two friends stood opposite each other both shirtless and panting heavily from exertion, little grey clouds disappearing and reappearing with every breath. They were both sporting large cuts and bruises, all freshly given, and their fists shared the same damage._

_“Alright, pal. Just give up already.”_

_Jeremy, the shorter but beefier of the two, grinned. He bared his teeth at his sparring mate, thick red blood dripping from his teeth as he spat a huge glob of it onto the concrete. “Why?” Jeremy snarked through pants, raising his fists once more and crouching slightly to keep his centre of balance low, “You scared?”_

_The man opposite him, taller but scrawnier, was wearing wounds of Jeremy’s making. He sighed and lifted his owned fists, mimicking Jeremy’s stance. “Fine. One more, then we have to end it before anything bad happens.”_

_“Yes, Mom.”_

_“Don’t call me your Mom, if I was your Mom at least you would respect me.” His friend exaggerated a sigh but grinned, “One more round, it’ll give you a chance to catch up to me.”_

_Jeremy felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, “Oh yeah? Fucking bring it on.”_

_His friend just cackled at him when the first punch came._

* * *

As he drove he passed places from his childhood. Hiding spots he and his friends would drive to in their teens to smoke and drink, blasting rock music into the night. Jeremy remembered how carefree and light he had felt then, just him and the guys dancing and singing at the night’s sky knowing no one would ever hear them. He supposed he was looking back with rose tinted glasses. Pathetically, he tried to memorise the spots as he sped past, knowing they would be forgotten in age. He drove and drove until the area around him looked less and less familiar and he crossed the point of recognisable and into the unknown. A rusty sign telling him he was now leaving Massachusetts was his only clue of where he was. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and wiped away the hot tears that had sprung to his eyes. Those days were gone. Those people were gone. The person he had been was gone.

He had to keep going.

* * *

_Jeremy wiped a towel he had brought with him to his brawl across his face and hissed as it made contact with his sensitive fresh wounds. He tenderly touched his fingertips to his cheek and felt along the ridge of a small cut his friend had made. The bastard, they had said to take off any rings. He shook his head with a fond smile, reminding himself to reprimand his friend for it later, after he was cleaned up._

_His friend had left him in the alleyway after their fight, leaving Jeremy to clean himself up and make sure that the alleyway wasn’t made into more of a trash heap by their presence._

_“Oh.” came a sudden voice to his right._

_He lifted his head and saw a woman, who couldn’t be that much older than him at the end of the alleyway, watching him. He took in her appearance, put together and stylish, and she took in his, bloody and beaten. Jeremy started to feel uncomfortable under her gaze, and shifted where he stood, “I’ll be outta your way in a second.”_

_“No, no. That’s alright.” she assured him, her voice gentle and friendly. He squinted at her - she definitely wasn’t from Boston. “Are you okay? You look like you got on someone’s bad side. I can only hope you won.”_

_Jeremy just looked at her, unsure of himself when presented with friendly small talk, “Uh. Yeah. Yeah I won.” He pulled on his winter coat, grateful for the opportunity to cover himself up from the biting cold and also the opportunity to hide his body from her unrelenting gaze._

_She smiled at him, “That’s just grand!”_

_“...Right.” Jeremy cleared his throat and picked up his duffel bag, stuffing his bloody towel and wife beater inside, before nodding his head in farewell at the woman, “See you.”_

_He had only made in a few feet when he noticed that his footsteps were accompanied by her lighter footsteps just behind him. “You know,” she began falling into step with him, looking up at the light polluted night sky while Jeremy gave her a curious yet guarded look. “Boston’s just splendid this time of year. You don’t get snow where I’m from. It’s beautiful.”_

_Jeremy looked at her sweet and seemingly genuine admiration for the sight around them. He supposed snow could be beautiful to those who had never had to deal with it, especially when it was still in this state of untouched purity, the white twinkling at them under the street lights. Jeremy was just so used to the black sludge that it became once the general population and thousands of dirty cars had gotten to it, that the awe of it had been replaced by annoyance long ago. “Where are you from that you don’t get snow?” he asked, resigning to the fact that she probably wasn’t going to be going away anytime soon, she seemed too nice to pick up on his passive vibes._

_ “Far, far away from here.” she said wistfully, “I’m here for business.” _

_ “Oh, that’s cool.” Jeremy stated, bored. He wondered if she would leave or whether she would just follow him home like a lost puppy. _

_ “I have to see to some troubles my client is having.” she said, voice less light and carefree than before. Jeremy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up at her sudden change in tone. “And recover what was stolen.” _

_ “Stolen?”  _

_ He noticed that she had stopped walking and he stopped to face her. As he did he felt a sudden intense pain in his shoulder, spreading across his neck and back as his entire body clenched. He felt himself fall to the floor, his entire body stiff from whatever she had done to him. The pressure on his chest intensified and he could barely get out a strangled “Stop-!” before he blacked out. _

 

* * *

Jeremy’s eyes were heavy, lids drooping every few seconds. He had been driving for almost a full day now, passing so many ‘Welcome to’ and ‘You are now Leaving’ signs that they all blurred into one and he was unsure of where exactly he was. The sleet had stopped, but the gloomy and cold atmosphere remained, clouds submerging the world into a grey tint, a fog lying low in the early morning hours. Through the mist he spotted the unmistakable neon glow of a motel sign and conceded into having a rest from his journey.

He pulled into the tiny parking lot and killed the engine, sitting back in his seat for the first time in however many hours he was into his escape, the muscles in his back sore and tense from having not moved in a long time.

Inside the motel it was about as depressing and average as you would expect from a middle America establishment like this. The front desk had a younger woman sitting there watching Netflix on her computer and clipping her toenails. When he walked in she didn’t acknowledge him and instead just sighed deeply, like his mere existence caused her great pain and annoyance. He wasn’t offended, she obviously didn’t get into this job expecting to actually have to do anything.

“A room, please. Checkout for tomorrow morning.”

She turned to face him, slowly dragging her eyes up and down his body, taking in Jeremy’s haggard appearance and no doubt his battered face. He licked his lips self consciously and winced as he tugged against a gash on his bottom lip. “You in trouble or somethin’? We don’t want you bringing any trouble.”

“No trouble, miss.” Jeremy assured her, “I just want a room, and I’ll be out of your hair in a few hours.”

She stared at him, “...You got a name?”

“Smith. Timothy Smith.”

“Any ID?”

“No, it’s- it’s in the car.”

Again, she just stared right through him. Jeremy shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze. He felt more exposed in front of this woman in her late teens than he had ever felt in his crapshoot of a life. She sighed again and he started to wonder if her default state was disgruntled and pissed off. She checked the clock on the wall behind her that read a little past 4 in the morning and looked back at him, reminding him of a principal or a mother, “You leave the room by 7am, and pay double.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Don’t eat anything from the fridge. Don’t drink anything either. If you need a drink, drink from the faucet. You do anything wrong and you’re paying me triple for it, got it? I could lose my job letting you stay here.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

“And don’t break anything for God’s sake.”

“Of course, yes.”

She unhooked a key from the wall behind her (he noted that he seemed to be the only person staying at the motel as all the keys were accounted for) and handed it to him, looking over her glasses at him, “Number 10, first floor, down the end. You better be gone when I said. You can’t be here when my dad gets here in the morning. He’ll shoot you then he’ll shoot me so you need to be out.”

“I will be,” Jeremy took the key from her and nodded his head, “Thank you again.” As he turned to leave he heard the woman mutter to herself.

“Don’t thank me just yet.”

The room was small and freezing, no central heating in the building at all, he figured. The bed was uncomfortable. A thin mattress covered with scratchy fabric and a crappy comforter that provided nothing of the sort and was too short to cover his entire body so he had to scrunch up into a ball. He wasn’t expecting much from this motel, and he was so exhausted from the journey that even though this was without a doubt the most disgusting and unhomely room he had ever been in, he fell asleep without any trouble.

* * *

_Jeremy woke up with his arms and legs tied to a chair and his mouth gagged with a foul tasting cloth. So, it wasn’t the best wake ups of his life. He blinked his eyes to get the blurriness out of them and winced at the brights lights in the room, all pointed right at him. He swallowed around the cloth and gagged, eyes watering. He was so thirsty. He tugged at his bindings and tried to find any loose knots that he could work on but cursed when he found that his capturer had obviously been a boy scout at some point. He sunk back in the chair and gave up on his efforts, knowing it was worthless at that moment._

_“Jeremy Dooley. Age: 26. Location: Boston. Status…” the voice pause and let out a cruel laugh, “Well, we’ll see how this goes.”_

_He mumbled against the gag, pushing his tongue against the rag to try and push it out with no luck._

_The voice’s owner walked into the light and he saw the woman who he had met in the alley looking at him with one of her seemingly permanent smiles. “Do you know why I brought you here, Jeremy?” He watched her as she scraped a chair along the concrete floor and placed it in front of him. She sat in it and crossed her legs. She waited for him to reply so he just stared at her, not giving her the satisfaction of her his muffled replies. The corner of her mouth twitched in amusement._

_“You’re here because there’s something very valuable that has been taken from my employer and, well-” she chuckled to herself, finding a joke somewhere in her words, “He’d like it back.”_

_Jeremy watched her with a stoney gaze but inside his head was spinning with questions. What had been taken? Money? Who was her boss? Why was he here?_

_“And since, Jeremy, your family … Well, The Dooley Clan have always been a thorn in our side, Jeremy. They’ve always been a bit too eager to prove themselves as the next and the best and this time well, do you know about Icarus?”_

_He didn’t._

_“Seems this time they got a bit too confident. Thought they could steal from the wrong people. They were wrong.” she tilted her head and looked him over with almost pitying eyes, “So, of course, where would we look first but the youngest Dooley clan member?”_

_Jeremy whined against the gag and shook his head. He tried to make his intent clear. He didn’t know about the money. He didn’t know anything. She laughed lightly and looked over her shoulder, curling a finger in a beckoning motion behind her. From the shadows, a large muscled man walked towards them and into the light. The woman turned back to Jeremy and smiled sweetly, “I’m sure we can make you talk.”_

* * *

 

Another day, another generic small American town gas station. Jeremy leaned against his car and sighed, very much used to this routine by now. He was running out of money, and fast. He had been travelling for almost a two weeks now, zig-zagging his way through the country and had swapped cars twice, going to shady Craigslist ad placements and buying their cars to keep whoever might be coming for him off his trail. He was running off of two hours sleep and barely any food. He wondered what was going to happen first, would he run out of money and have to settle down somewhere? Or would he die from lack of sleep, food, water or all of the above? He hoped if he had to die, it would be from his own doing rather than starving in his car.

There were two older men staring straight at him, watching him fill up his tank. He stared back, unfazed at this point, he knew what he looked like. He was dirty, he hadn’t showered since he hastily left his apartment back in Boston, and his face… He hadn’t even looked at his face yet. He knew it looked bad, his attackers hadn’t been gentle with him. He knew he had a nasty looking cut on his cheek that he was certain would scar, and his forehead had a huge, bloody scabbed over wound which was rough to the touch.

Jeremy sighed deeply and pulled the pump out of his car, heading towards the building to pay when one of the two older men who had been staring at him called out to get his attention, “What happened to your face, son?”

He ran a finger over the cut on his cheek self-consciously and shrugged, “Met some bad folk who didn’t take too kindly to me, I suppose.”

“You gotta have someone take a long at them gashes, boy. You’re gonna get septic.” the man replied, his friend nodding sagely to his left.

“I’ll take my chances.” Jeremy mumbled, but thanked them anyway, as he turned to walk away he stopped and turned back to them, “Are there any motels around here? I need a place to stay tonight.”

They turned to each other quizzically, both pondering for a second, until the second man, who had been quiet until now piped up, “No motels for 20 miles, outsider. We don’t get too many visitors. Your best bet is headin’ down the main road ‘til you hit the city. Plenty of places to stay there.”

“The city?” Jeremy asked, he had no idea he was anywhere close to a city. The surrounding area of the town he had stumbled upon was close to abandoned, with the horizon stretching out flat and the ground dry and cracked. If you had asked him where he was he would have guessed the middle of a desert. The fact that there could be any sort of bustling city near here was insane to him.

“By the coast, about 2 hours west of here.” the oldtimer replied, “Big place, lotsa people. Went there all the time when I was your age.” Jeremy raised his eyebrows in surprise, _The coast? Have I really gone that far?_

“And this city has places to stay?”

The old man nodded his head, “Course, loads of places. For dirt cheap too, if you’re concerned ‘bout that.”

His friend shrugged, “Crime’s a problem there but-” he stopped and looked Jeremy over, “I don’t think you got anythin’ they’ll want.” Jeremy ignored the vaguely foreboding tone the man had used and thanked them before he went to pay for his gas. It looked like his journey had an endpoint after all.

* * *

_Jeremy felt his nose crack from the punch as the force of it sent him and the chair he was bound to straight to the concrete floor. His shoulder slammed into the ground and his fingers got trapped underneath the edges of the chair. He groaned and grit his teeth, spitting out some blood that had started to pour into his mouth. The woman and her brute looked at him with cruel eyes, but with no sign of stopping at all. She gestured for him to pick Jeremy up and he did so, placing the chair back in it’s normal position, Jeremy slumped against his restraints._

_“This didn’t have to go this way, you know. You could have gotten out of this building with your face intact.”_

_‘There’s no way you would have let me walk out of this building scot free’ Jeremy thought to himself but knew better not to snark back at her, not when she held all the cards. He just looked at her through his poor vision, one eye swollen shut making it difficult for him to see anything. The woman was starting to show signs of tiredness though, her posture less calm and composed, now stiff and agitated as more time went on._

_“You could have told us everything we needed to know but instead…” she sighed in disappointment, tutting at him as if he were a naughty school boy, “Now you’ve gone and made things difficult.”_

_Her brute, who didn’t seem to have a mind of his own, stood like a cliff-face next to her. Tall, stony and muted. Jeremy noticed he swayed slightly as he stood, mind empty and balance off centre needing constant readjustments to make sure he wouldn’t fall over. He looked almost like he had been hypnotised, or at least had had one too many hits to the head over the years. He was terrifying though, and Jeremy wasn’t sure that the man had any limit to his strength._

_“Cerberus, make him talk.” she said tiredly, rubbing at her temples, “By any means.”_

_Jeremy had felt pain before._

_He had always been the one to start fights or get into scuffles with his friends at school, and he had had his fair share of punches in his life. He had fallen from fifteen feet during a gymnastics meet and had broken bones during a football game. He had felt the emotional pain of his father’s cold shoulder and the pain of the death of family members. He thought he could handle this._

_He couldn’t._

* * *

The city was different than he was expecting. After countless hours on the road with nothing but stretches of the world with not a soul in sight, being somewhere so busy, so large, so _bright_ was a shock to his system. The city was made up of neon blues and purples but also warm, dusty oranges and off whites. Built to withstand the heat of the day while also providing a sort of near constant nightlife. He was sure it was only around early afternoon when he got to the city but the bars were already overcrowded with people, most of whom were already drunk off of their asses and yelling. God, the yelling. Everyone and their mother was yelling. There was a constant overlay of six different noises at any one time. Sirens, screams, music, engines, laughter and what Jeremy assumed were the sound of gunshots.

He loved it.

It was chaos, sure. But it was exactly what he needed. The jolt of the everything happening _so much_ after nothing happening at all was exhilarating and exhausting at the same time. He wandered down the streets and was never looked at once. He was just another face in the crowd, why would people care about him? They had things to do and people to see. And people to do and things to see.

Despite it apparently having rampant crime according to the elderly men from the gas station, the streets were pretty clean and the people well put together. If there was crime here it must have been in a different area. He looked around with wide eyes and a small smile, the first in weeks, started to creep onto his face. Home sweet home.

* * *

_Jeremy woke up freezing cold._

_He was on the street, sprawled out on the concrete like a drunk who hadn’t made his way home. But as he looked up and tried to get his bearings on what was happening he noticed that he had been left in front of his apartment complex, his belongings thrown down next to him in the snow. Jeremy sat up on his knees, his teeth chattering, and rifled around in his duffel bag for his keys. As he looked he brushed his hand along a sharp edge of something. Paper? Jeremy tightened his grasp on the foreign object and pulled it out, eyes widening in horror at what he saw._

_It was a glossy photograph of him, tied up and out for the count in that building where he had been beaten to a pulp. His eyes had punched in holes in them and there was crusty, dried blood spelling out a threatening sentence:_

_‘BE GONE BY SUNDOWN OR WE’LL FINISH WHAT WE STARTED.’_

_Jeremy dropped the photograph and ran a hand through his hair, air rushing from his lungs as his brain frantically tried to understand the situation. He had been given an ultimatum with very little room to budge. Either he stayed and he was killed, along with whoever else they wanted to hurt to get what they wanted, or he left. Ran away as far as he could until no one knew his name and they couldn’t find him. He knew in the back of his mind that there was no doubt about what he was going to do. He couldn’t let them get to him. He couldn’t let them get to-_

_Jeremy’s mind was made up._

_With one defiant nod to himself, he stood up weakly and hobbled over to his apartment, a plan already forming in his head._

* * *

The bed wasn’t amazing but it was also nowhere near as bad or as uncomfortable as the ‘beds’ he had been sleeping on since his escape had been, so he made sure to graciously thank the skeletal looking landlady and gave her a bonus with whatever money he could spare. The room had a shower in it and Jeremy for the first time in what felt like forever, stripped off, turned on the shower and stood underneath its jets. He soaked in the feeling of the cold-warm spray on his back, tense and stiff from his lack of movement and comfortable nights, letting the water work its magic and loosen up his joints.

The sudden feeling of being okay, of being away from danger, of peace rushed over him and he suddenly had to choke back tears as they formed dangerously quickly. He let them fall, stumbling forward slightly from the sheer intensity of emotion he felt so suddenly. They mixed in with the water and fell to his feet, slipping away down the drain without anyone ever knowing. He rested his head against the cold tiles and sobbed to himself, letting go and muscles loosening. He could finally just stop everything. Stop the worrying, stop the fear. Stop it all. He didn’t have to run away anymore. He was somewhere where no one from his old life would ever find him. He had gotten away. He had _made_ it, when so many others never could.

The stress he had been feeling from the past few weeks slowly seeped away and he felt, for the first time in a long time, like he was finally safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Man, oh man. Has this been a hell of a fic to write. It's been fun and the work isn't over. I'm posting this first chapter as I'm editing the others but it's very close to being done. I'm so, so, so thankful for the people who helped me during November while I was initially writing this for NaNaWriMo (my first one!) and to Achievement Hunter for being the inspirations to this story. It's very near and dear to my heart so I'm hoping you all enjoy it. Please heed the warnings first, this is a FAHC story and there will be some dark stuff. The tags there right now are for some bigger warnings that appear later and I will add more warnings with each chapter so it's up to date. Check out Sami's cover art for this work here: http://samijen.tumblr.com/post/171558843041/commissioned-by-roosterteethshit-for-nanowrimo
> 
> Entire work is beta'd by my friend ellie: thegirlinthedress (ao3)/amyjakes (tumblr)/ryahaywood (twitter)


	2. Chapter 2

_“For a split second they stared at each other. A fleeting, lasting moment. One person noticing another person out of a whole crowd of strangers.”_  
― **Alexandra Potter, Calling Romeo**

* * *

 

The city, and the people in it, were tough as nails. Each and every person had a story that could become the next best selling thriller, each with its own cast of weird and dangerous characters. Jeremy had only been in the city for six hours before meeting one such character. His landlady, Mrs Jackson, was a boney, taut skinned elderly lady with a voice huskier than an alcoholic after six bottles of whiskey. She had never been married, but insisted on being called ‘Mrs’ as it made her feel respectable. She a thin hand rolled cigarette held loosely between her fingers, and yet never seemed take a drag from one. She was tough, had seen it all, definitely passed her prime and knew it.

“You goin’ out, hon?” she said, as her icy blue eyes watched him jog down the apartment building’s stairwell. She was sat at the bottom of the stairs on a ratty old armchair. “You’re lookin’ better.”

Jeremy stopped in his tracks and nodded politely in greeting. He supposed he must look different, having showered for the first time in weeks and finally cleaned up his wounds. His hair was shampooed and conditioned, now soft to the touch where he had become familiar with it being shaggy and greasy. He had even cut and trimmed his beard to a state that felt comfortable, the hairs not long tickling his neck any more. Kat had always said that he cleaned up nice-

He cleared his throat.

“Hi, Mrs Jackson. Yeah, I’m off to look for a job.”

“Oh, how excitin’.” she drawled, not enthused in the slightest, “Be sure to look both ways before crossin’ the street, and all that crap.”

He nodded and gave her a small salute in farewell, before heading out.

It was sweet of her to let him stay, and he was aware of how rare kindness was in the world. When Jeremy had showed up the previous night, dirty and rough looking, she had thrown him a key and pointed upstairs, not asking any questions. He was deeply appreciative of it.

Finding a job when you have no experience, no references, no resume and no identity was hard, as it turned out. Jeremy had never given his actual name to any of the people he talked to, just claimed the moniker “Timothy Smith” and was done with it. They had asked him questions and he had pressed that he needed a job and he needed one fast, hoping naively that it would be enough for him to be hired.

He had scouted out as many hard labour or customer service jobs as he could find. Sitting up late in his room to cross off the places he had visited and jobs he had applied for. He didn’t care what he got as long as he got something. Waiter, receptionist, janitor, mechanic: it didn’t matter.

Mrs Jackson had worked out a deal with him, since he couldn’t afford to pay for his room he would instead help her out with any chores she needed assistance with. She had called to him before he had ran out of the building on morning and waved her thin skeletal fingers at him playfully, claiming that she needed a big strong man to help pull up her old carpeted floors and fit her with new polished wood paneling. Jeremy had smiled politely, pointedly ignoring her tracing her fingers down his arms a bit too intimately, and had agreed to do it.

A roof over his head in exchange for a few days of hard labour here and there wasn’t a bad deal at all and Jeremy wasn’t sure how he had gotten so lucky. Well, he had an idea of why she kept him around after he felt her icy blue eyes following his movements as he worked in her apartment, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

After a few weeks of no luck in Jeremy’s search for a job, Mrs Jackson had started rambling about all her ex-lovers, telling him story after story about her bizarre conquests. She would languidly lay on her bed, sighing deeply as if remembering each and every moment. Relishing in the memories of her better lovers and shuddering in the memories of her worse ones. Jeremy would listen, actually entertained by her stories, as he worked. From the way she preened in his willing company, she was entertained by him too.

She revealed to Jeremy that she used to be quite the celebrity around these parts, long ago, “Before your time, sweets.” She had apparently been the fetching arm candy for one of the most dangerous men in all the city. “He would go out at night, and come back with blood splatters on his shirt, tearing the ruined garment off before making love with me. I never asked who the blood belonged to. I was just there as somethin’ for him to fuck and for him to abuse.” Mrs Jackson went quiet then, looking into the distance, eyes hazy and sleepy in a trance from her own stories.

“He would hit you?” Jeremy asked, voice quiet but curious.

She snapped out of her revere and smiled thinly at him, rolling herself another cigarette and throwing her old unlit one away, “Oh sweets, in those days, you woulda had to have somethin’ real special for your man not to hitcha. And that kinda love doesn’t find people like me.”

* * *

 

Jeremy and Mrs Jackson had gotten into a well rehearsed dance after a month of him living there. He would wake up bright ‘n’ early and she would be there, in her ancient armchair with a lit cigarette held lightly in her hand. She would playfully flirt with him and he would nod and politely ignore her. She would then complain about some problem she’s having with her apartment, that it was too cold at night, or the bathroom tiles were cracked, and Jeremy would offer his services to the delight of Mrs Jackson.

“Oh, Timmy. You don’t have to!”

“Mrs Jackson, I insist.”

“You’re so good to me, makes me feel young!”

“I’m just doing my part.”

“You are a good boy.”

Routine. Practiced and precise. Their little performance for just them. It was comforting and boring, much like the rest of Jeremy’s new life would be. That was, if he could ever find a job.

While walking the streets of the city every day for a month, he had gotten to notice a few things. Firstly, that while the streets were clean and the buildings without a spec of vandalism, there was definitely crime there. There were sirens blaring near constantly, and Jeremy had been paying close attention to the mention of any increased gang activity specifically for any mention of the Dooley Clan. Not that anyone this far west would know of his family’s business, but they still had a name for themselves.

He also noticed that it was damned near impossible to find a job. Since ‘Timothy Smith’ had no history, no experience, no recommendations and no e-mail he was pretty much at the bottom of the barrel. It wasn’t like he hadn’t looked for jobs before, but in Boston his name meant something, So he had people opening doors for him everywhere. Here though, the name Timothy Smith meant nothing. Too generic to be anyone special, nothing about his existence stood out.

“Timmy, do you not have a resume or anything?”

Jeremy sighed and dropped his head in exhaustion. It wasn’t so bad that he was berating himself, but he really didn’t want Mrs Jackson’s opinions on his life right now. “I don’t have a computer, and I don’t have the money to buy and computer, and I don’t have money because I don’t have a job. And I don’t have a job because I don’t have a computer. Do you see my problem here?” He looked down at the bare wood floors he had already polished twice for her and gritted his teeth.

“Hey, smartass. I got jobs before computers were even a thing.” Mrs Jackson said from her bed, jabbing her cigarette at him as he worked. “I was 16 when I got my first job, I didn’t need no fancy computer or nothing. Just used my charms!”

“I don’t think I’ll get any jobs by sleeping with my interviewer, but thanks.” Jeremy muttered to himself.

“Watch your mouth, I was hired for my cheery disposition, I’ll have you know. I brightened those office types’ days right up when I poured them their morning coffee.” She grinned wolfishly at him and lay back, flicking the nonexistent ash off of the tip of her cigarette. She suddenly sat up, like she had been electrocuted, and clapped her hands together, cigarette flying, “Hey have you tried that? You’d make a wonderful barista, sure you’d get all the girls to love you!”

“They need higher standards then.” Jeremy said in a light tone, but considered her words anyway. He had tried a few corporate places, with worn out teenagers serving coffee, but most of them required him to apply online so he had been turned away immediately. “Know of any local, small business joints? Mom and Pop cafes maybe?”

Mrs Jackson hummed in thought and tapped her long, bright pink nails against her cheek and hummed, eyes distant and fuzzy. Jeremy watched her, used to this state as she would often drift off into her own head when telling him stories. Soon after her eyes brightened, “I happen to have a dear old friend who runs a small cafe downtown. He and I go way back, and he owes me a few favours for savin’ his skin. And his marriage” She giggled to herself, her eyes twinkling. Jeremy didn’t ask.

“You think he’ll take me?”

Mrs Jackson tilted her head and let a slow, predatory grin spread onto her face, “Certain of it.”

* * *

 

According to Mrs Jackson this man who owed her a favour was a hell of a lover.

Sensual, intelligent, knew where everything was and how to use what God gave him. Apparently so good of a lover that she screamed his name so loudly during an orgasm once, that it permanently damaged her vocal chords, resulting in her now raspy voice.

But after taking in the withered, feeble elderly gentleman in front of him, Jeremy wasn’t sure how much of that he believed.

“You’ll be working the night-shift, Timmy. Serving coffee, and cleaning up the floors.” the man said, wheezing as he spoke. He slowly walked around the small but quaint cafe, gesturing around him. The cafe was unimpressive but felt somewhat homey. The eggshell blue walls accented the pastel 1950s vibes he got from the whole place. The cafe was in a somewhat off-the-beaten-track area, only found once you delve into the many alleyways and side streets of the City, with an unimpressive front with fading painted letters that needed to be repainted decades ago. It was nice. And exactly the kind of nothing life that Jeremy had wanted. So why was it, when the man shook his hand and congratulated him on getting the job, did he feel like he had signed a death warrant?

Mrs Jackson obviously, had been thrilled at the news of his new employment, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. She suddenly appeared to be thirty years younger in her excitement.

“It’s gonna be sad not havin’ you around to fix my floors any more.” Mrs Jackson said, later. They had both retreated to Jeremy’s apartment and he had offered her a drink to celebrate.

“I think I renovated your entire apartment, Mrs Jackson. I gave you new bathroom tiles twice. You woulda run out of things to have me fix” Jeremy teased with a small but genuine smile on his face. He had enjoyed their banter, and Mrs Jackson’s harmless flirtation. He was lucky to have found a friend in her.

Mrs Jackson laughed at him and took a swig of her drink, “Timmy, I never woulda ran out of things for you to do. I like havin’ you around too much for that.”

Jeremy held his glass up to her and she smiled sweetly at him before leaning forward to toast their glasses together with a soft _clink._

“To the future?” Mrs Jackson proposed.

“To the future.” Jeremy agreed.

* * *

Working at the cafe was slow work.

It wasn’t that there was nothing to do, he could keep himself busy cleaning the floors and wiping down any messes that had been made during the day shifts, or checking the inventory. It was more that there was no rush of customers or sense of urgency. Which he supposed was a blessing but at the same time the slow crawl of the seconds hand on his watch was making him want to die inside.

Other than him at the cafe, staring into space and wiping down the same spot on the countertop over and over, there were a few regulars he had started to notice since starting work. One of whom was a girl in her early twenties who huddled away in one of the corner booths, tapping away at a laptop for a few hours, with empty coffee mugs surrounding her.

She was apparently working on a screenplay about gay aliens or something, she seemed very passionate when Jeremy had asked one night. Jeremy wasn’t too sure of how to respond so he had just nodded and used the excuse of ‘getting back to work’ to leave her to it.

Another regular was an old man who popped by just as Jeremy’s shift was about to end and who was usually his last customer for the day. As is normal for old people, he loved to talk about himself and told Jeremy that he comes by so early because he drives two hours every day to see his wife in a psychiatric hospital ten miles away after she had a mental breakdown twenty years ago. Obviously, Jeremy’s reaction to this was a very awkward “Oh.”

But other than that and a few randomers, the cafe remains relatively empty for the entire night, leaving Jeremy to his thoughts.

That night however, the morning marking his tenth week in the city, someone new walked in.

It had been a slow night, the girl with the laptop hadn’t come in and so Jeremy was left to himself to check stock, clean up after the day, and to prepare the cafe for the next day and get it ready for the people doing the morning rush shift. He had some music playing over the cafe’s speakers and was zoned out. So zoned out that he didn’t see the stranger walk in and call for him. It was only when the man stood right in front of him and tapped him on the shoulder that Jeremy finally snapped out of his revere. Jeremy jumped back in shock and looked at the man that, to him had just teleported in front of him.

The man was slightly taller than he was, with a head full of light brown curls. He wore a brown leather jacket and thick rimmed glasses, behind them were light brown eyes that were looking at him with concern. “Jesus!” Jeremy exclaimed walking back a few steps as the stranger was far too close for his liking, “I didn’t see you. Let me just-”

The stranger laughed at him and waved his hand, “Dude, you need to calm down first you’re all-” he made a mock flustered motion and Jeremy stopped walking away from him. “Don’t have a fucking heart attack.”

Jeremy calmed himself and tried to get back into a professional state, “Did you want any coffee, sir?” he asked.

“Yeah, five cappuccinos... Do you guys do tea here, Earl Grey? I’m doing a run for my friends.”

Jeremy got to work on the cappuccinos and nodded as he went, “Yeah, we do all sorts of tea. I’ll get that for you.”

He felt the stranger’s eyes on him and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, “You’re new to town, right?”

A cold sweat appeared on Jeremy’s forehead and he slowed his movements to a stop, the coffee press hissing next to him suddenly fading into a dull silence. He turned around and saw the stranger tilt his head, “Uh. Yeah. I’m here for a family thing. Grandpa’s sick.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“He could die.”

“Really.”

“How’d you know?” Jeremy asked, squaring his shoulders and trying to appear braver than he felt, “That I’m new to the city?”

The stranger just smiled slightly, the edges of his mouth turning up revealing his amusement of the situation, “For one? You didn’t recognise me.”

Jeremy squinted in confusion, “What? You famous or something?”

The man shrugged, “Or something.”

“Right. I don’t watch much TV.”

He snorted, “I’m not an actor.”

Jeremy shook his head, and continued on with making the drinks, pouring the coffee into the styrofoam cups and clipping the lids onto them before pushing them over to the man, “Your cappuccinos and Earl Grey, sir.”

“So cold,” the man pouted, “You aren’t even gonna ask me my name?”

Jeremy stared at him, “I have work to do.”

The man looked around at the completely empty cafe and nodded sagely, “Yes, I don’t know how you can handle this much work.” but he relented and picked up the drinks and headed towards the door, “You know, anyone else would've been excited to get a visit from one of the Fakes. See you, outsider.” As he turned away, Jeremy noticed that there was a large embroidered wolf on the back of his leather jacket, snarling fiercely. Red italicised words underneath the wolf reading _‘Lone Wolf’._

“The Fakes?” Jeremy called out as the man was leaving, “Is that some sort of band?” but the man had already saluted him and walked off into the night, leaving Jeremy on his own confused and vaguely annoyed by the whole encounter.

_What kind of a stupid name is ‘The Fakes’ anyway?_

* * *

The next day Jeremy was plagued with the annoyance of not knowing what the hell had transpired the previous night. The fact that the man had laughed at his lack of understanding like he was a damned dog chasing its own tail had bothered Jeremy beyond comprehensive thought. So what if he wasn’t up to date on the City’s most famous, he had more important things to think about. He lay on his bed looking up at the peeling ceiling with furrowed eyebrows, working his jaw as he thought.

Jeremy couldn’t believe how much one insignificant moment had gotten under his skin so much. But there had just been something there, in that man’s eyes that made him shiver. The way he had acted like he knew him when Jeremy was sure they had never met before, he would have remembered him. His voice was too unique to forget, just the right amount of odd to not be forgotten easily, nasal and cartoony in its tone. No, he would have remembered him for sure.

_You’re new to town, right?_

He groaned and ran his hand over his face, dragging his hands down slowly. He needed to get out.

Jeremy sat up and walked to his door, pulling his worn sneakers on as he did and grabbing a jacket. As he ran down the stairs he waved to Mrs Jackson and called out a short goodbye as he left.

Jeremy’s plan when he first arrived to the City was to lay low, as much as he could. Get a job that didn’t involve meeting a whole ton of people? Check. Minimise his interactions with the outside world but still interact with enough people so that he doesn’t cause suspicion? Difficult at first but had been taken care of in the form of the lovely Mrs Jackson. But he wasn’t sure she counted as he never needed to leave his apartment building to talk to her. So, he has to socialise. And when you don’t have anyone you know to talk to or even a phone to use to contact people, you have to actively find people.

The place he had decided would be a good area to lay low but still make some friends was small little bar off of Main Street which he had seen while pavement pounding which looked ideal. When he said it was small, he meant it was small, with barely enough room for twenty people to sit and a quiet atmosphere where people drank away their troubles and kept their heads down. It was perfect for Jeremy.

He sat there, watching the quiet TV that was placed over the bar with some of the other patrons and quietly worked away at his whiskey and coke, while they talked about the game. He would chime in every now and again with a cheer or a groan depending on what the preferred team of the patrons would do. There was a middle aged, balding man sitting to his side who swore under his breath whenever the opposing team would miss a shot.

Jeremy looked over to him and decided to make his move, “Hey, not a fan of the-” a quick look up to the screen, “Devils?”

The man looked at him and raised an eyebrow, “Fuck no, anyone who’s a fan of the Devils is obviously mentally insane, they’re shit.” he looked around at the other people in the bar, all sporting Devil’s merchandise, “As you can see from these prime examples.”

“Ah, right.” Jeremy raised his beer in solidarity, “Fuck the Devils.”

The man clinked his bottle with Jeremy’s, “ _Fuck_ the Devils!”

_Socialising? Check._

“You know you look familiar, you haven’t been on TV or nothing, have you?”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head, “Me? On TV? Nah, Mom always told me I had a face for radio and a voice for mime. Only way I’d end up on the TV is on the news with a busted face.”

The man grinned, “Mothers can be so harsh.”

“But true.”

“It’s all in the beholder, guy.”

The conversation seemed to end there and Jeremy panicked for a moment as he felt his chance for friendship slip away from him. “So, uh- Why do you hate the Devils so much?”

The man didn’t look away from the game, “The team are a bunch of kids on skates, balls still in their stomachs. Can’t play hockey if you don’t have a good pair of balls between your legs for the enemy to target, right?” He laughed loudly and slapped Jeremy on the shoulder.

“You said it, pal.” Jeremy agreed, though less passionately.

They spent the rest of the evening sitting together, making snide comments to each other about the Devils and other things. Eventually, the game went to half time and the screen flashed with colourful commercials. The Devils were ahead and his new found friend was fuming, extremities spilling out of his mouth angrily, mocking the players. And as amusing as Jeremy had been finding his company, he had work to get to. “Alright, well. I’ll be seeing you.”

“Already?” his new friend asked, “But we haven’t even seen the Devils get beaten into the ground yet!”

Jeremy shrugged apologetically and made his way to the door, “The nightly grind stops for no man, someone’s gotta pour those insomniacs some coffee.”

His friend huffed but held his hands up in surrender, “I know your pain, fucking night shift ruins your life. Was nice talking with ya, guy.”

“You too, pal.”

* * *

Back at the apartment building he announced his arrival to Mrs Jackson and she crowed a greeting at him, “How was your evening, sugar? Not too tired to work are we?”

“Nah, just had one drink and I sipped it. Knew I had to be sensible.” He shrugged off his jacket and turned the corner to find her in her ratty old armchair again, “How was your-” He stopped, staring at her newspaper she had been reading before he came in.

“Timmy?”

“Mrs Jackson, who’s that on your paper?” he said, looking at the familiar beady eyes of the person in the photograph.

“Hmm?” she folded the paper back to see who he was talking about, and snarled once she saw, “That’s a nasty piece of work, that one. _Jones._ ”

Jeremy noticed her toned and tore his eyes away from the photo of the man, who he now could put a name to, who he had spoken to in the cafe not twenty four hours earlier. “Why who is he? Is he famous?”

“Infamous more like. He and his no good criminal friends are what’s ruining this city.” she spat, lips pursing like she had tasted something sour, “You’re lucky you didn’t know about him.”

Jeremy felt his heart sink slowly into his stomach, falling like a stone in water. He needed to sit down “They’re a gang?”

“More like a syndicate, that’s what they call them on the news, ‘the Fakes’. They’re rotten to the core, all of em.”

“Mrs Jackson could I borrow that paper? And your computer? I just need to do some research.” Jeremy asked, voice a rush of air as he suddenly remembered how to breathe.

She gave him a look. A look that every woman was born with the ability to do. A look that had been given to him one too many times. A look that said _‘You’re up to something and I will find out.’_

For good measure, he gave her an innocent and charming smile, “Please?”

Mrs Jackson reluctantly handed over the newspaper and nodded her head to the door of her apartment, “Don’t be long.” He grinned and kissed her forehead as he took the newspaper from her, thanking her as he went.

* * *

It really was telling that Jeremy hadn’t known about them. They were famous and just their name put complete and utter dread into the hearts of the cruelest men.

They were a crime syndicate formed almost a decade before by the kingpin, Ramsey, and a woman named Pattillo. Since then, a select few people had been added to their roster.

Ramsey had apparently been a big deal in the early 2000s, making a name for himself as a kid who wanted to create havoc. Even for the big crews of the time, he was a nuisance. When there was a big explosion and alarms screeching it was usually him. The internet held a lot of information on him since he had been arrested so many times as a stupid kid. He hadn’t been arrested for a long time though, ever since the Fakes started.

Pattillo was another mystery all together. She had come out of nowhere ten years ago with military level skills and a chip on her shoulder. There were rumours that she used to work with her brother for good but when he died in a terrible accident she turned to a life of crime. She was their eye in the skies, a skilled pilot who never had trouble evading missiles from police planes, or getting the other members of the crew to safety. Though how she had become so skilled was a secret to all. Some people say that she used to be an Air Force girl but had left for unknown reasons.

Jones was the first outside of the founders to join the crew, and the only one Jeremy had identified. He was their firepower, the one who rolled in guns blazing and causing a scene while the others took care of the dirty work. Jeremy squinted at the photos of the man wielding a huge machine gun and a wild grin, animalistic grin. How could the maniac in the photo and the charismatic, cocky man he met at the cafe be the same? It was bizarre. No one really knows who he is beyond the scraps of worthless info flying around, only really solid piece of information was that when he first started he had had a very thick New Jersey accent.

Next was Free, though not much is known about his actual role in the crew, most hypothesise that he’s the brains behind it all, that he masterminds all their heists and attacks. Others say he’s their extra pair of hands or their backup as he only appears on average half of the times of the others. The only real thing that was known about him was that he’s English, his accent hard to hide in grainy audio recordings of him that had been captured on scene or on someone’s phone. Which strikes the question, what was a Brit doing in one of the most infamous crews in the whole of the west coast? Hiding from the British police in an entirely different country, to start a new life of crime?

Then there was the Vagabond. Jeremy couldn't find any name or information attached to him, only that moniker. He covered his whole face in a black skull mask and rarely spoke. But he was easily the most feared out of the Fakes. While the others are charming assholes who will make you laugh before slitting your throat, the Vagabond will not only slit your throat but he’ll do it slowly over the course of _hours_ with a dull blade until you’re begging for death. He’s the most dangerous one. The picture they have for him on the Wikipedia page is taken from CCTV footage of a bank with him turned to face it, blank, hollow eyes of the skull staring at and through the camera and into Jeremy’s soul. Jeremy stiffened his back and clicked off of the page and onto the last Fake.

The last one was Narvaez, who had little to no information too, but mainly because he appears to have been killed during a heist a little over three years ago. He was young though, early twenties people theorise. The youngest Fake. Their sniper. There wasn’t a lot more too look into about him. Although, Jeremy did note that after his death the Fakes weren’t seen or heard from at all for almost six months. Jeremy made a note of that.

He looked over every news article he could find about them, which ranged from an online blogger rambling about how cool they had been to actual journalists talking about how damaging they are to the city and its tourism market. The general consensus of what people thought of the Fakes seemed to be extremely varied. Most people, people who were local and dealt with the aftermath of their shenanigans all the time, were fine with them. Usually they never targeted actual civilians and only ever killed people who had wronged them, like other criminals so they weren’t a _real_ threat so long as you don’t mess them around.

Other people were actually _fans_ of the Fakes. Running blogs and Twitter accounts dedicated to which of the guys was the cutest (Free, but Jones was a close second. Jeremy personally had no opinion in the matter), where they were last seen and what appeared to be detailed logs of every single Fake appearance, stretching back to 2008. Every member’s first appearance was logged and marked in bold text and so was every ‘big’ appearance like one of their heists, or times where the whole crew were seen all together. Jeremy looked at some pictures of the entire group together, Jones and the other four, the four cappuccinos and one earl grey. Jeremy wondered if that was damning information to have about them, the fact that they all drank cappuccinos except for the one Earl Grey in the crew. He wondered who the Earl Grey drinker was.

His watch beeped and he looked at the time. 11:30. His shift started soon. Regretfully, too information thirsty to want to leave, he deleted his history and turned off Mrs Jackson’s computer. He knew who the Fakes were now, he was prepared for if he ever saw Jones again. He wondered if it was naive of him to want to run and hide to a new city all together, hoping that the criminals _there_ had no idea of who he was. Jeremy ran a thoughtful hand over the now healed over scars on his face from his last night in Boston. If he knew who the Fakes were, there was no way they didn’t know who he was. He lowered his gaze to the photo of Jones in the paper, staring into the lens, daring the cameraman to come any closer.

Why wasn’t Jeremy running away?

* * *

He had started to pick up a schedule. Wake up at noon, go to the bar during the day and watch TV with the regulars, come home, shower, leave for work, come back, sleep and repeat. It wasn’t a particularly exciting life but it was much better than any alternative. And he really wasn’t complaining. He had been here for a month now and everything seemed to be going pretty smoothly despite the fact that he was a wanted man.

Smooth, monotonous life.

Wake up, bar, come home, shower, work, come home, sleep.

It was simple. It was easy. It was-

Boring.

“Do you ever get bored?”

His friend looked away from whatever game was playing this week and tilted his head, “What?”

“Of life. Of _this_. I don’t-” Jeremy fiddled with his glass, staring into the murky black of his drink, “I used to have a pretty exciting life.”

His friend raised an eyebrow, “You’re a bit young to be thinking about your glory days, fella. How’d you know if they’ve even happened? Wait until you’re forty, on the brink of divorce, fat, ugly, with two kids and so much debt winning the lottery wouldn’t get you out of it. That’s when you can mope, kid.”

Jeremy looked at his friend, inwardly taking in his more haggard than usual appearance. “You have ketchup on your collar.”

“Listen. All I’m saying is that just because you’re in a bad spot _now_ doesn’t mean it’s permanent. Life is shit, people are shit, the world is shit-” he took a hefty swig of his beverage with a grimace, “This drink is shit. But not everything’s that way. You still have good moments right? Got yourself a girl?”

Jeremy’s traitorous mind flashed with images of home, of _her._ “...Not really.”

“Well, find one. You’re young, you have time. Me? I made my bed a while ago. Now I need to lay in it.”

He looked at his friend more closely and noticed a few more things, “You okay, pal?”

“Like I said. Life? Shit.” the man shrugged and took another swig of his beer, “But at least there’s hockey.”

Jeremy raised a teasing eyebrow, “Maybe you should listen to mindfulness tapes or something.”

He friend snorted at him and punched his shoulder.

* * *

He was walking home from the bar when he heard someone cry out. He looked around and saw two men struggling trying to bring each other to the ground. He watched for a few moments figuring out what was happening. From what he could tell it wasn’t one guy beating another guy to a pulp, it seemed like a pretty fair fight actually. The first man had the second guy in a chokehold, sure, but the second guy was scrappy and wasn’t afraid to use his elbows. Jeremy watched on. _They’re probably fine._ He thought, _Probably friends who are having a fight._

He carried on watching.

The second man started turning purple.

Jeremy looked around, looking to see if there was anyone else who could help.

He looked back.

The second man wasn’t fighting back any more.

_Aw, hell._

Jeremy ran over to the pair and kicked the first guy directly in the face making him yelp and fall back, clutching his nose. “The fuck are you doing?!” Jeremy yelled at the first guy, grabbing the second guy by his arm and pulling him up.

_“Fuck, I think you broke my nose!”_

Jeremy turned to the second guy, “Are you okay, dude?”

“Yea-” the second man coughed roughly catapulting forward and clutching his chest, face still purple.

“The fuck’s your problem, man?” Jeremy barked, teeth baring on instinct, “You two got a score to settle, you punch him in the balls and that’s it. You don’t kill the guy.”

_“Fuck, my fucking nose! I’ll kill you!”_

Jeremy turned to him and snarled, “Yeah? Try it.”

The guy glowered at him and stood up, wiping the blood that was pouring from his nose away and bringing his fists up. Jeremy stayed calm, he was no stranger to a fight. The man was already worn out, it was going to be an easy fight, but he was angry and that made him unpredictable, so Jeremy had to stay on his toes. The man made the first swing and Jeremy easily avoided it, the man hadn’t planted his feet and had swung with his entire weight, so when he had nothing to collide with he just stumbled.

Jeremy spun quickly when the man was tripping over his feet and swiftly sent his elbow into the man’s cranium, making him fall to the floor. He waited until he was sure that the man had been knocked out before letting his guard down. He didn’t want to hurt the man, just make him stop so he focus on the other man. The other man who was currently staring at him in fear.

“Get away from me!” he spluttered through coughs, “Don’t hurt me please!”

Jeremy started, stepping backwards and holding his hands up in the universal ‘I’m cool, don’t worry’ sign, “Hey, hey, hey, woah, stop. I’m not gonna hurt you-”

The man stumbled to get to his feet and ungracefully tried to get as far away from Jeremy as possible, “Get away from me, please. Just- _Just leave me alone!_ ” and ran away out of Jeremy’s sight.

Jeremy stared in shock at the man’s reaction, “What the hell-?”

“And I thought _you_ were shit at first impressions.”

Jeremy turned around quickly at the new voice and saw the man himself, Jones, leaning against the wall of the alleyway watching Jeremy. He was wearing the same brown leather jacket as he had been when they first met, Jeremy could tell by the distinct wear and tear on the front. He stared back, “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see you fucking brain this guy.” Jones walked forward and looked down at the unconscious man, whistling in approval, “Pretty sure you knocked him into next week.”

“...”

Jones sighed deeply and looked up to the sky, “So, you Googled me.”

“Yeah. You and your little boyband.”

“Cute.” Jones smirked, “And?”

“And?”

“What’d you think?”

Jeremy just stared, eyebrows low and jaw set, “I think ‘The Fakes’ is a pretty shit name, if you ask me.”

Jones nodded, “Yeah and our crew’s colour is the ugliest shade of shit green in the world, we can’t do anything right.” He pushed himself from his lean and walked towards Jeremy, hands in his pockets and really not looking anything close to dangerous. Not only was he a generally alright looking guy, but he also had a face that screamed nerd and unthreatening so Jeremy was conflicted.

“Why are you talking to me?” Jeremy asked, voice low, “You don’t know me. I don’t know you.

Why, in a city full of people who would _love_ to meet you, would you come to me?”

Jones raised his eyebrows in surprise but nodded, “I guess I owe you that. I always knew who you were, Jeremy Dooley.”

A beat.

“...What?”

“I mean, it was naive of you to think you could come to this city and just assume the life of a broke college dropout and no one would notice.” Jones stopped smiling and straightened up his shoulders, “The youngest of the Dooley clan doesn’t just go missing without anyone knowing about it. _‘Timmy Smith’_? Come on, dude, that’s the shittiest fake name ever.”

“You gonna ransom me?” Jeremy hunched his shoulders, “You can try.”

“No.” Jones replied, “We’re not gonna ransom you. We’re gonna recruit you.”

Jeremy looked at him, and the world stopped turning. He just stared and stared and stared, unable to will his eyes into believing that he was seeing what he was seeing.

“...What?”

“We want you in our crew, kid.” Jones said, smirking.

“Stop-” Jeremy shook his head, his thoughts too loud, “Stop calling me ‘kid’ you can’t be much older than me. And… _join you?_ I don’t--”

“I know, I know it’s a big deal. I mean, a chance to work with _The Fakes_! It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. I understand why you’re so shocked, I remember when I was asked to join by Jack and I was--.”

“No.”

“--shocked too. What did you just say?” Jones looked at him, eyes suddenly alive with fire burning away in the warm browns of them.

Jeremy stared at him incredulously and ran a hand through his hair, “I can’t fucking join you, are you crazy? I’m on the fucking run!”

“Right but, with the Vagabond as your bodyguard, I doubt you would be in any danger.”

_“I don’t want the fucking Vagabond as my bodyguard, Jones!”_

“Jeremy, calm down. It’s really not all that bad, you couldn’t be in a safer place-!”

 _“Than a crime syndicate!?”_ Jeremy yelled. He took a second to calm himself down before settling Jones with a glare, “Okay, think about this logically. I have a price on my head right? If I start galavanting around with you psychos and getting my face plastered on the papers every day, it will take the people looking for me less than a DAY to find me! _Do you see how fucking stupid you are now?”_

Jones sighed deeply, irritated with Jeremy’s attitude and honestly? He could be as annoyed as he wants, he wasn’t the one in danger. Jones held up his hands in surrender and calmed himself, “Okay, listen. You don’t know anything about us, the only things you know were told to you by the media and our stalkers. You don’t have any information on us that isn’t biased. Please, just come with me and see for yourself.”

Jeremy looked at him, eyes full of distrust, “Go try your luck with someone else. I’d much rather be invisible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Mrs Jackson, and I aspire to be just like her when I'm old. Not that I'm calling Mrs Jackson old of course... Hope you liked this chapter! The plot thickens and the first mention of The Fakes! And the introduction to everyone's favourite rowdy boy, Michael Jones, the Lone Wolf. We love him! Sort of seemed obvious to me to have Michael be the first of the Fakes Jeremy meets. They're both from the East Cost, both can handle themselves in a fight and Michael's the only one who could handle Jeremy's anger. Or maybe I just love Team Short Temper ahah. That aside, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next part should be up soon~


	3. Chapter 3

_“You are not the victim of the world, but rather the master of your own destiny. It is your choices and decisions that determine your destiny.”_

― **Roy T. Bennett**

* * *

 

Jeremy wasn’t too sure how he’d managed to go so long without knowing who the Fakes were. Ever since his meeting with Jones and the offer, he couldn’t go anywhere without hearing about them in some way. Like hearing a word on the radio and then hearing it everywhere for the rest of the day. It was infuriating.

Instead of the usual hockey game playing at the bar, there was news coverage of a recent heist that the Fakes were thought to be involved in, CCTV footage showing Jones and Free escaping the scene. The news anchor went on to talk more about the Fakes’ past heists and their history. Jeremy sniffed in annoyance and looked away from the screen.

“Bit unusual for Free to be out there on the scene,” his friend said with curious tone, “Usually he just stays behind.”

Jeremy frowned into his drink, eyebrows low like thunderclouds, “Maybe he got promoted.”

“Or they don’t have the manpower.” his friend joked lightly, “Yo, Ernie. Turn this shit off and change it to the game. We don’t wanna see this.”

The bartender grunted and switched the channel, some basketball game replacing the news story. Jeremy looked around at the other patrons, noticing the tense air, “You guys not a fan of the Fakes then?” he said quietly to his friend, so as not to cause a scene just by mentioning their name.

His friend hummed and gestured to the men behind them, “You could say that. Jackson over there lost his daughter in a Fakes shoot-out, she just got caught in the middle of it.”

“Christ.”

“And Garrison lost his shop after they ransacked it.” his friend sighed deeply.

Jeremy frowned and looked up at the screen thinking about the news story, “I guess I just didn’t realise how many people had been affected by them. They’re dangerous.”

“They’re dangerous but-” his friend stopped and looked around before whispering to Jeremy, “If you ask me I think they’re more dangerous because they just don’t care, not because they’re outwardly trying to hurt people.”

“Shouldn’t they be held accountable for that?”

His friend shrugged, “It’s an unpopular opinion to be sure. People who have lost… they don’t like to be told who they can and can’t blame for it and- Jackson’s daughter was only there because she wanted to take a photo of them for her journalism class. And Garrison’s shop was the only place that sold illegal firearms and explosives for dirt cheap.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow at the man, not sure what he was hearing, “So you think they deserved it?”

“No. I just don’t think they want to look at the full picture. Easier that way.”

* * *

 

Turns out his friend wasn’t the only person to think that way.

There were a lot of people in the city that thought that the Fakes were anti-heroes, sticking up for the small people and only ever hurting the rich and powerful. The Fakes had protected the City just by making a name for themselves. They held all the cards and were the masters of the criminal underground. All the petty thieves and wannabe thugs respected them and their morals. The Fakes didn’t go around terrorising the locals and that meant neither did everyone else.

The statistics were right there, they couldn’t really argue with it. Crime had actually gone _down_ since the Fakes started, if you discounted all the crimes committed by the Fakes themselves (which accounted for a large chunk of it). Of course, the police and morally righteous politicians didn’t see it that way. Jeremy could almost hear Jones pouting and saying _“They just don’t want us to have any fun.”_

Mayor Hullum had denounced them and considered the Fakes to be the incarnation of evil plaguing the streets, and that police should shoot on sight. And no one could really argue against him, not with the Vagabond walking amongst them.

“They’re demons, Tim.” Mrs Jackson said when he brought them up, her face thin lipped and serious. “Satan sent his children and they walk on these streets to cause mayhem.”

Jeremy didn’t say anything, just watched her as she stared into the air, her eyes glassy as she remembered something. He thought of this father, of the family he was forced to abandon. HE wondered if the Fakes’ name had reached them and if it struck the same fear inside of them that it did in the people of the City.

“They treat our laws like they’re merely suggestions of how to behave, happily breaking them without a care. They terrify me, Tim. And they should terrify you too.” he eyes snapped to him, suddenly sharp and focused, looking _through_ him. “Why aren’t you scared of them?”

Jeremy’s heart stuttered in his ribcage and he held eye contact with her, “I guess I’m just not afraid of ghost stories.”

* * *

 

There was another Fakes attack, this time on a local run donut shop Downtown, only a few minutes from Jeremy’s workplace. It felt too close.

No one was hurt, nothing was even stolen- technically. They broken in around three in the morning just because they weren’t patient enough to wait a few hours for the place to open up. They stole a few boxes worth of donuts and kolaches, left more than enough money of the counter with a little note saying sorry for the broken door and that they would pay for a new one. The news story showed the note and Jeremy saw that at the bottom there was a crude drawing of the Vagabond stuffing his face full of donuts and it made him wonder if he was the one who drew it.

Jeremy smiled at the news story, huffing out an involuntary laugh.

_Idiots._

* * *

 

It seemed that he was being stalked by the Fakes.

Jeremy didn’t notice it at first but it was definitely happening. It wasn’t a case of seeing the Vagabond or Jones standing outside his apartment à la Michael Myers in _‘Halloween’,_ it was mainly noticeable in little things. Subtle things. Like the fact that security cameras always seemed to be facing him.

Or the fact that he always catches people staring at him when he walks home.

Or the fact that he had started getting messages slipped under his door.

The first message wasn’t anything interesting. Just a plain piece of white card, about the size of a driver's license, with the words _‘Mr Watson, come here. I want to see you. -- G.F.’_ printed in a small, minimalistic font in the middle. Jeremy had simply raised an eyebrow at it, rereading the words over and over again trying to make sense of it. Taking it as literal he pulled a pen from his pocket, ripped the lid off with his teeth and wrote in his own messy scrawl: _‘FUCK OFF.’_

He flicked it under his door and went about the rest of his day.

The next message came a few days later, and Jeremy groaned at it. Another message from the Fakes, or more specifically, from Free. He wasn’t smart enough to recognise the reference Free had been making with his first card, but he didn’t need to be to figure out that ‘G.F.’ was Free, since he was the only Fake with a last name beginning with an F. He took a moment to ponder if Free giving his initials was a way of them showing that they trusted him. But still, it made him feel uncomfortably small to remember that they know his entire life story and all his was being granted was one of their members initials.

Jeremy groaned and picked up the card, reading it to himself.

_‘Settle an argument, do you like pineapple on pizza? -- G.F.’_

He frowned at the offending piece of card and threw it to the side.

Messages kept coming through his door, usually always there when he got back from his shift, waiting on his floor behind his door, like a steaming hot turd in the form of a neat white card. The cards were usually always jokes.

_‘Oh how I long for thee to call me -- G.F’_

_‘Jones says you’re short but I can’t really tell from the camera footage. Call me! -- G.F.’_

_‘You look hot with your hair pushed back. Call me x -- G.F’_

_‘Vagabond says that contacting you is futile but he hasn’t seen the half of it yet! Hugs and kisses xx -- G.F.’_

_‘Did you see our latest hit on the news? Didn’t I look great? Call me, maybe! -- G.F.’_

_‘Do you think cats are aware that they’re they could easily control the world? For more messages like this, call me! -- G.F.’_

Jeremy ignored each and every one and went about his life as usual. Bar, work, coffee, Mrs Jackson, shower, sleep.

The messages get a little weird after that. Well, weirder. Each message being a riddle in some way. Sometimes a reference, sometimes a different language, sometimes a hint leading somewhere else. Those messages always made him knock guiltily on Mrs Jackson’s door in the early hours of the morning asking to borrow her computer so he could figure them out. After the third time she just started to leave her door unlocked for him so she didn’t have to keep letting him in.

He was furious with himself really. Because as much as he kept thinking that he didn’t care. As much as he threw the messages to the side with a scoff and tried to forget them, he still eagerly awaited every one. And he was sure that Free knew that.

It had been a few weeks of these messages when there was an oddly stoic looking card waiting for him. This time, no playful flirty banter from Free and instead just a very blunt:

_‘Contact us. - V’_

Jeremy hummed and looked around his apartment. “If you want me to call you guys so bad, you could of at least given me a number to call. You know. That would have made sense.” he said to no one, and to whoever could hear him.

The next day there was another white card, this time with a number printed in the center of it and no initials. He hummed to himself and pocketed it, making a mental note to find the microphone in his apartment.

* * *

 

Jeremy sat in a public area, a large park with children running around and screaming, hurried mothers following after them. Somewhere with eyes everywhere. He pulled out his crappy old phone he had gotten for dirt and dialed the number, holding it up to his ear and listened to it ring. It rang for a few seconds and then whoever was on the other line picked up.

Neither of them said hello.

“You guys should really learn the meaning of ‘no means no’. I said I didn’t want to join your boyband.”

A new voice spoke up, a woman’s. _Pattillo,_ his mind supplied for him. _“We figured that we’d let you think it over a bit more, Jones isn’t one to be patient.”_

“I don’t think any of you have that virtue, if I’m being honest.”

She laughed on the other end, voice gentle and melodic, _“Why’d you think I’m the one talking to you?”_

Jeremy hummed and watched the civilians walk by, ignoring him. “You got eyes on me?"

_“Always. Nice spot you chose, you expect us to shoot you down?”_

“I just don’t want the locals’ favourite anti heroes causing a scene.”

_“You don’t know us very well.”_

“And yet you know all about me.”

_“Had too. You’re a threat, whether you think so or not. We’ve been watching you since you first arrived. We don’t want the Dooley Clan setting up shop here.”_

“Well then you’re in luck.” Jeremy sniffed, “I’m the only one here.”

_“We know that too.”_

“Then why’d you send Jones after me? And then Free to stalk me? You’ve been watching me for months, you still think I’m a threat?”

A pause.

_“Why didn’t you want to join?”_

“You guys aren’t exactly low profile, I’m trying to lay low.”

_“And since you arrived here you’ve managed to attract the biggest gang this side of the country. You aren’t as low profile as you think you are. The moment you disappeared from Boston your face was everywhere, you think no one would recognise you?”_

Jeremy didn’t reply.

_“And in all the years of the Fakes being around, how much information -credible information- is out there about us? How many people know our real names? Our families? Our pasts?”_

“I managed to find out your names.”

_“You only know what we want you to know. We have a very good tech guy. And we have the Vagabond. We’re good at making people stay quiet.”_

“...”

_“...”_

“So you want me to join to, what? Protect me?”

_“On some level. We also wanna keep whoever is after you out of our city. If we know you’re here it won’t be long before they know too. We can help. And we’ve seen what you can do, how you fight, how you survive. We could use you.”_

“Do I have a choice?”

_“You do.”_

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

_“You don’t trust us.”_

She said it as a fact, and Jeremy supposed she was right.

“I don’t.”

_“Then trust this. There’s people coming for you. People who hurt you, who scared you enough to run to the other side of the country, people who are willing to hurt whoever is close to you to get to you. By staying where you are, by staying in that apartment building, at that shitty job and at that shitty bar, you are compromising not just your life but everyone you love's life. Your family, your friends. Your fiancée-”_

Jeremy flinched.

_“They won’t stop until they find you and they kill you. We can hide you, keep you away, keep you safe. And.. keep them safe. What do you say?”_

* * *

Pattillo sent Jones out to meet him, specifying a more private spot to meet as to not draw attention. Jeremy had agreed numbly and walked the fifteen minutes there, instead of hopping on the bus. Public transport sucked, and he had a date with a wanted criminal he just couldn’t  be late for.

The destination she had told him to go to was an abandoned elementary school on the north-side of town. It was red brick and old, contrasting the usual grey and neon modernism of the rest of the City. There was a shadowy figure in front of the school-gates and Jeremy heart sank just knowing it was Jones.

“Welcome back to school, kid.”

“You look younger than me, Jones.”

Jones swaggered out of the dark with a smirk on his face, “Perma-baby face is a real problem that affects sixteen billion Americans every year, Dooley.”

“Whatever, man.” Jeremy held out his hands, his wrists pressed together, “Take me to your leader.”

* * *

After some convincing and promises of broken noses should anything fishy happen, Jeremy allowed Jones to take him to the base. Jones led him to a pretty dramatic looking black herse and Jeremy’s eyebrows lowered in annoyance at how obnoxious the Fakes were, even in their choice of car. “Shouldn’t you like, blindfold me or something?” he asked as he climbed in the back seat.

Jones looked at him with genuinely startled confusion, “Why would I blindfold you?”

“I just thought- So I don’t know where the base is-”

“Do you _want_ me to blindfold you?”

“Fuck off.” he grumbled.

“We really aren’t close enough for you to be talking that way.” Jones said with a laugh, voice grating and teasing. Jeremy wanted to punch him.

In the car Jeremy stayed silent and watched the back of Jones’ head as he drove. Jones took them through to the west side of the City, out towards the busiest metropolitan area. Jones had the radio on and tapped his fingers along to whatever pop crap was playing. Jeremy watched in curiosity and tried to figure out where the base could be and if he would know the building. Eventually they arrived to the centre of the nightlife area and also to the biggest police station in the City.

“Wait, what the fuck are you trying to pull-” Jeremy started getting ready to bolt if Jones took him any closer to the police station. Instead Jones made a sharp left turn and headed around the corner from the station and into a garage for a tall, sleek skyscraper. “You- You guys have your base _directly next to the police station?!”_

“It’s the last place they would look for us.” Jones said with a shrug and winked at him in the rear view mirror. Jeremy wanted to vomit.

The radio crackled and a male British accent came through, _“--BZZT! Hey dude! I’ll buzz you in. Got the fresh meat with you?”_

Jones grabbed a radio that was in the glove compartment and clicked it on, “Yep, he’s here. I’ll bring him up. Let Vagabond out of his cage and put him in his Sunday best.”

 _“Will do. Seeya, boy. Bye bye, Jeremy! See you soon!”_ The radio fizzled back into some mainstream crap and Jeremy scowled. That must have been Free.

“Is Free always so…” Jeremy made a motion with his arms, trying to sum up Free’s eccentricities with his flailing.

“Oh yeah, he’s always like that. You get used to him.” Jones said this with a tired tone but the gentleness in his face told a different story. Jeremy knew from his research that Jones and Free were close. If Free was there Jones would be there too.

It hadn’t escaped Jeremy that he had been in contact with most of the Fakes in someway, prior to their meeting. Jones he had seen the most, having been the first one he had met and the only only he had seen in person. Free had been sending him little messages for weeks and even the Vagabond had sent him one with his own blunt message. And Pattillo was the one to pick up and convince him to join.

The only one he hadn’t received any contact from was Ramsey, their leader.

It was vaguely foreboding. Surely the rest of the Fakes are working under his orders and yet silence from the man. Jeremy looked at Jones who was now parking in a spot in the centre of the garage surrounded by dozens of expensive looking cars, bikes and even some boats. For a moment he considered asking Jones about him, about Ramsey. But decided against it. Time would tell he supposed.

_You only know what we want you to know._

And he knew nothing about Ramsey.

Jones parked the car and looked at him, “You ready for this?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Jeremy climbed out of the car and took a better look at the garage. In the center of it all was a 1920’s limousine facing towards the garage doors. On the hood of the limousine was a logo that Jeremy could only assume was The Fakes’ emblem, a green circle with a green duck inside. Looking at it a bit more, he saw what Jones meant about the green.

“Follow me.”

Jeremy turned and saw Jones heading up the stairs at the back of the garage and he quickly went to follow after him. Jeremy wasn’t too sure what he had been expecting. When he first thought of a criminal hideout, he thought of a warehouse, with graffiti on every surface. Beds, furniture and anything else they need stolen from wherever they could get it. This was definitely not what he had in mind.

First off, the building incredibly clean and well kept. The walls white with modern decoration, faux plants on every corner, lush furnishings at every turn. It was gorgeous and reminded Jeremy more of an office building than a criminal secret base. “It’s nice.” Jeremy commented, looking around him. Jones turned back to him and nodded.

“Suppose. Not my style.” Jones shrugged, “Through there.” They came up to a big set of double doors that lead into a room that had music playing loudly in it (some random rock song that Jeremy couldn’t place but was reminded of his teenage years when he heard it), and men’s laughter muffled through the wood.

Jeremy took a breath and pushed the doors open revealing The Fakes, all of them, sat together in a recreation room of sorts. Jeremy saw Free sat on the floor in front of a huge flat screen television with a games console attached to it, playing some kind of racing game while Ramsey and Pattillo watched on the large leather couch behind him. Pattillo was laughing at Free’s frustrations while Ramsey just watched with a small grin. The Vagabond was sat somewhat away from them, on a bench that was next to a large bar behind which was a massive display filled with whiskeys, vodkas and all sorts of alcohol varying from stuff Jeremy could recognise to stuff that Jeremy was sure was from some foreign country and cost up to six figures.

 _“It’s impossible!”_ came a shrill British voice, which Jeremy recognised was Free, _“There’s absolutely no way it would work!”_

“It does work,” Pattillo laughed, “You just have to be good at it.”

“Piss off, I can drive in real life and that’s all that matters.” Free grumbled, pouting like a child.

Jones suddenly barked out a laugh, “Yeah right, you can only barely drive. I still think you should retake your exams, to see if they didn’t just pass you by accident.”

The Fakes turned towards the door and saw Jones and Jeremy standing there, and Jeremy suddenly felt very, very underprepared. “Uh. Hey.” he greeted, lifting his hand and doing a small wave.

Pattillo looked right through him, “Jeremy Dooley.”

Jeremy looked away from her intense gaze. “Yep. Just picked him up.” Jones affirmed, “He came quietly.”

“Oh, he _is_ short. That’s not very threatening.” Free observed, tilting his head slightly and looking him over.

“Hey!” Jeremy retorted, standing up straight. (He knew he wasn’t the tallest guy in the world but he wasn’t about to let that tiny twig tell him that.)

“You can’t always tell people’s heights from videos, I suppose.” Free hummed tapping a finger to his lips thoughtfully.

Jeremy already didn’t like this guy.

“Alright everyone,” Jones slapped Jeremy on the shoulder and pushed him towards the others, “Let’s do a quick roll call. Say your name and your position in the crew.”

Ramsey stood up and Jeremy took him in. He was… normal. Not very threatening. “Geoff Ramsey, leader and brains behind the heists and most of our missions.” He nodded Jeremy from where he stood. Jeremy had noticed that in the pictures of him he always wore a black tuxedo whenever he was in the public eye, but right now he was just wearing a simple black graphic tee and jeans which revealed his heavily tattooed arms that extended onto his hands and fingers. He seemed to be taller than Jeremy although that wasn’t difficult, in fact he thought everyone single one of the Fakes, including Pattillo, was taller than him. But Geoff was definitely one of the tallest.

Pattillo, a tall, beefy woman with bulging thighs and legs, stood up to shake hands with him, wearing very simple and muted clothes, a very striking difference to her heist outfit of a green, blue and red Hawaiian shirt with blue and white striped short shorts. “Jack Pattillo. Co-founder and pilot/get away driver of the Fakes. It’s nice to meet you finally, Jeremy.” He shook her hand and appreciated that so far she seemed to be the nicest of the Crew, because her first words to him hadn’t been a comment about his _height_.

Free stayed where he was but threw up a hand in a half hearted wave “I’m Gavin. I do all the tech stuff. Hacking, disarming security systems you name it.” Gavin smirked and looked him up and down, “I’m the one who's been sending you those messages.”

“Yeah. I figured.”

“So you got that and not the Watson reference?”

Jeremy took a second, “Was it about Sherlock Holmes?”

“Oh my God.”

Jeremy looked at Free, he was a very, very skinny man with a thick head of messy brown hair and a, frankly, horrendously large nose. From the very few pictures there were of him online he usually just wore a blue button down with a pair of sunglasses and really didn’t put any more effort into it.

The Vagabond just looked at Jeremy, not saying anything. Pattillo decided to step in to save the conversation from turning awkward with Vagabond’s refusal to speak. “Ignore him, he’s trying to freak you out on purpose. That’s the Vagabond. We don’t know his name and we don’t ask. And yes, he always wears the mask. He’s our foot-soldier. Does a helluva job too.”

Jeremy turned to Jones, the only one he had known before today, and Jones grinned, “I’m Michael Jones. Mainly a getaway driver but I also help with the fighting.”

“...Hi.”

“So, Jeremy Dooley.” Geoff Ramsey began, standing and walking over to him, hands buried into his jeans pockets, “Why are you in so much trouble?”

“I...uh-”

Gavin Free groaned, throwing his head back, “If you were just gonna ask him then why did you bother asking me to do background checks on him.”

Michael threw his car keys at him, making Gavin, “Cause you never tell a new friend that you were stalking them, _idiot._ ”

“I already knew that, subtlety isn’t really you guys’ thing, huh?” Jeremy said, eyes boring into Gavin who refused to look at him.

“Well, yeah.” Michael said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “But only because we had to be safe. I swear that was the only reason.”

“And even if we didn’t look into you, we would have known about you anyway.” Geoff admitted, his dark eyes glinting, “Our friends over on the East Coast were raving about you.”

“Also, you’re a Dooley. Dooley’s don’t tend to go missing without reason.” Jack added.

“And since there was no known reason why you would suddenly up and leave, we had Gavin take a look into it.” Geoff finished.

Gavin popped his head up and grinned, “You have a _very_ interesting history.” Jeremy squinted at him, unsure of what his game was. Realistically he knew that Free couldn’t know anything massively incriminating, not for him personally at least. He knew that they would know about the Dooley clan, he knew that they would know about their dodgy dealings, everyone in their circles did. He wouldn’t know anything about Jeremy’s life, he had tried to remain pretty secretive and private even when he didn’t have anything to hide, it was his life. Not Gavin’s.

“Suddenly not too thrilled to be here.” Jeremy muttered, “Never a good sign when everyone in the room knows more about you than you do.”

“Don’t feel singled out, Geoff did it to all of us, even Jack.” Michael insisted, “Gavin just finds the stuff for him, he doesn’t actually do this for fun.”

“Yeah, no offence but if I’m gonna hack someone for fun it’s not going to be you guys.” Gavin agreed, and Jack slapped him round the head, _“Stop hitting me!”_

“Stop being an idiot then.” Jack scolded and Gavin rubbed his, now sore, head.

Jeremy looked around the room, “So, why do you want me?”

They all turned to Geoff, “Cause we like you. You, Jeremy Dooley, are _very_ interesting and you seem to have some key features that we’re interested in.”

“You mean my connections to the East Coast crime syndicate.”

“No, I mean your skills as a person. You’re an incredible fighter, and you know how to talk to civilians. Our current negotiator has, uh-” Geoff looked over to the Vagabond who was still silently watching this whole conversation, “Unconventional methods.”

Jeremy looked over to the Vagabond too, “So what, you want me to be good cop to Vagabond’s bad cop?”

Geoff touched a finger to his nose and pointed at him, the universal sign for _‘Correct!’_

Jeremy sighed and thought it over. Right now, he was safe. He had a job that, while it didn’t pay well, was small and quiet and didn’t cause any problems. So why would he give that up? Why would he give up that safety net for something so dangerous, so incredibly stupid, so… fun?

“I’ll do it.” Jeremy decided quietly, “I’ll join the crew.”

Michael cheered and Jack grinned at him, “Welcome to the Fakes, Jeremy Dooley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Regular updates" I said. "It's been one month?!" I say. 
> 
> I am sorry about the break. A lot of stuff has happened including some good stuff and some bad stuff and I needed a while to sort of get back on my game. This story just happened to suffer. I also fell into a Marvel hole after watching Infinity War and have been reading a LOT of fic. And man, is there a lot of it. 
> 
> This chapter is a result of me adding too many words to a finished story and needing to break up chapters so this like... Chapter 3 Part one. I think that'll happen quite a lot so you might see the number of chapters get higher every now and again. Oops ^^
> 
> Jeremy is FINALLY a Fake and we can get started on the real meat of this baby! More soon.


	4. Chapter 4

_ “...she took away my yesterdays. But that's okay. Because now I am a person made of tomorrows.”  _   
―  **Nick Lake, There Will Be Lies**

* * *

Jeremy looked towards the Fakes and felt out of place. After agreeing to join, the group seemed to forget about him immediately, busying themselves with each other or with something in the recreational room. 

Geoff and Jack were chatting by the bar, Jack slumped over on the bar stool. Her elbow propped up on the bar with her head resting in her hand, eyes closed and posture relaxed as Geoff laughed about something or other. Geoff was playing the role of the bartender, pouring her a drink, dish towel slung over his shoulder. Gavin and Michael were by the television fighting over the remote, trying to change it to their preferred channel. It seemed by Gavin’s screeches that Michael was winning. Michael was sat almost on top of the skinnier man, hand pushing Gavin’s face into the couch cushion. Off to the side of them by himself was the Vagabond, who had remained silent throughout the entirety of Jeremy’s introduction. He was sitting a little to the side of Gavin and Michael on the sofa with a Diet Coke in hand, though because of the mask he hadn’t drunk any of it, and had probably only taken the drink to be polite. He was jostled ever so slightly by their shenanigans and a drop of Diet Coke spilled over onto his hand. The boys froze as he slowly turned to them, the skull’s expression seeming to say:  _ “You’re dead meat.” _

Jeremy studied him for a moment, tilting his head. Up close, the Vagabond wasn’t  _ scary.  _ He supposed, it would be different if they had first met in a darkened alley, the Vagabond slowly walking up to him with a glinting knife, while Jeremy had no escape.  _ Then  _ he would be scary. But sat there in the bright lights of the Fakes’ base, Diet Coke in hand and back awkwardly tense, he didn’t seem to be much of a threat. More like a disgruntled uncle forced to babysit. 

Still, they were partners now. 

Jeremy Dooley and the Vagabond.

He leaned back against the heavy wood door and sighed,  _ ‘If only my Dad could see me now.’ _

Realistically he knew that if he and the Vagabond were to be partners - and not only that,  _ good  _ partners - he knew that they would need to at least have one conversation. But was it childish of Jeremy to just say that he didn’t want to? Probably. He thumped the back of his head on the door and breathed in a big breath. No time like the present. 

He made he way over to where the Vagabond was sitting and sat down on the corner seat, a few seats away from the man, not wanting the encroach on his personal bubble.

_ Be cool. Be cool. He’s just a guy. Be cool. _

“Hey Vag.”

_ God, fucking nice one, Jeremy. Idiot. _

Jeremy cleared his throat as the Vagabond sighed deeply, soundly very slightly Darth Vader-ish as he did, and turned to look at him, “So... Looks like we’re partners now.”

“...”

“I was thinking- uh. How did you come up with the whole Vagabond thing? Which is- It’s great! Wicked cool and all that.” 

“...”

“I only ask ‘cause well- I need one too. A mask I mean. A costume. These guys don’t even know your name right? I don’t want anyone knowing who I am.”

“...”

Jeremy’s eyebrows furrowed, annoyance at the Vagabond’s silence starting to creep up his neck.

“Could you help me out with it? I don’t really know where to start and all. Never done this before. We could both be skeletons maybe? Then it’s obvious that we’re partners-”

_ “Stop talking.” _

Jeremy started at the voice that came from the Vagabond, it was deep and very obviously annoyed but it was slightly muffled from the skull. “So, you  _ can  _ talk.”

“Yeah, of course he can talk.” Geoff piped up from the bar, “He just doesn’t very often.”

“Hey,  _ no fair _ ! V didn’t talk to me for like a month when I got here! Jeremy’s only been here a few seconds and they’re suddenly best friends?” Gavin complained, having given up on the war for the remote and flung himself over to where Jeremy and Vagabond were sitting. He smirked cruelly at them, “Why don’t you two just get married?”

“He told me to shut up, I wouldn’t exaggerate it.” Jeremy insisted.

Geoff shrugged, “Sounds like a marriage to me.”

“What’d you say to get him to talk?” Gavin pressed, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable the two of them were at the sudden attention from everyone else in the room.

“I just asked him about my costume.”

“Your costume?” Michael asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, you know. Like how you have your leather jacket and Geoff has his tuxedo and Gavin has his shades.” Jeremy noted, gesturing to each Fake as he mentioned them.

Geoff nodded in understanding while Michael just shrugged, “Dude, I don’t know. None of us really put too much thought into our clothes except for Vagabond because it’s his deal. So you’re right asking him. I just got my jacket at a thrift store, it’s hot though, right?.” He flexed and grinned at Jeremy.

Gavin’s sinister grin grew bigger by the second, an evil little plan hatching inside his bird brained head. He clapped excitedly, dramatically gesturing to the two resentful partners, a fire behind the green of his eyes. “ _Oh!_ I know! Jeremy and V should do some shopping and have a little _Vagabond makeover_!” He jumped up and pulled his gold framed sunglasses from the dip in his shirt and slipped them on, making his way towards the door, walking with a proud swagger to his step, “Wouldn’t that be fun?” He flipped up a casual peace sign and left them all to think over his words.

Jeremy had officially decided that Gavin was the single worst person in the whole world.

He heard the Vagabond grunt and Jeremy turned to face him, noticing that the merciless killer that had the crooks of the City running scared, was avoiding making eye contact with him.  _ ‘What a baby’  _ Jeremy thought.

“The dramatics aside, Gavin has a point.” Jack, the peacekeeper, admitted, “Vagabond  _ is  _ the only one of us who can relate to your problems right now, so while the shopping idea is... obviously a no-go, he could give you some pointers. That good with you, V?” Jeremy saw the Vagabond’s shoulders tense and then relax and he nodded stiffly, “Great, it’s settled. Let’s eat. Michael it’s your turn to get the food.”

_ “But I always get the food!” _

The Fakes all walked as a crowd out of the room and down the hall, all chatting and laughing. Noticing that Jeremy hadn’t followed, Michael held back and looked at him curiously, “You okay, man?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy took in a deep breath, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Michael nodded, clearly understand the mess of emotions Jeremy was having trouble understanding himself. Yesterday he had been in Mrs Jackson’s apartment building, flicking away the stupid cards Gavin had been sending him. And now he was  _ one  _ of them. Well. He had joined at least. Having the chance to see for himself how well they all worked together, how they bounced off of each other so seamlessly he realised he wasn’t really one of them. He was just the new guy. He didn’t understand their jokes, didn’t know their boundaries, didn’t know their stories. These guys were a family. But-

They had opened up their family to him.

And who was he, to deserve such kindness? 

A man with no home. No family of his own. A number of friends he could count on one hand, all who knew nothing about him. To Mrs Jackson he was Timmy, her quiet, kind neighbour who hadn’t discarded her like the other men in her life. To the men in the bar he was a faceless regular, who drank a beer and left, quietly observing those around him. To the Fakes- He was Jeremy Dooley. The only people in the City who knew his name, his life, everything. He was their co-worker. A man on the run. So why did they want him?

He shook his head and rubbed at his temples, a stress headache starting to form. “Michael, you wouldn’t mind calling me a cab would you? I wanna get back home and sleep for a million years.” He hadn’t had a good night's sleep in months, ever since the trouble began. His hair was thinning from stress, his eyes had large dark circles under them and his posture was hunched making him look smaller and weaker. 

Michael stared at him, “Jeremy, you aren’t going back to that place.”

“What?”

“You live here now. Perk of being a Fake, dude.” Michael punched him in the shoulder, “We even had your stuff sent over here so you have all your electronics, clothes and shit.”

Somewhere, in the back of Jeremy’s mind, he wondered how Mrs Jackson reacted to seeing the Fakes breaking into his apartment. If she had gotten up from her armchair and put up a fight. But the louder, more exhausted part of his brain, screamed at him to eat. He groaned and Michael laughed at him, slapping a hand on his back, leading him to the dining room.

“Don’t worry though, you’re not rooming with anyone. It’s not fucking college.”

* * *

 

That night, like most nights, Jeremy lay awake wondering if his recent choices in life would ultimately destroy everything he loved.

According to the neon green digits on his high tech alarm clock (which could also give him the morning news, ambient sounds to help him sleep or a playlist of sexy music in case he ever had ‘company’) it was thirty seven minutes past three o’clock in the morning. The room they had given him was somehow lavishly decorated while also maintaining a chic minimalistic vibe. Dark grey walls with a pristine white carpet that Jeremy could already  _ feel  _ would get dirty after just one day of him living here. 

As promised, his belongings were neatly packed away in the room. Clothes washed and pressed, hanging up in the wardrobe. The rest of the pitiful collection of things he called his own were hidden away in drawers apart from a photo of him and Kat. He had kept it under his pillow the past few months, but it was now smoothed free of wrinkles and placed in a delicate frame on his bedside table. When he had seen it, his jaw had clenched protectively and his hands turned into fists by his sides. He would need to talk to them about privacy.

Michael had downplayed the fact that he wouldn’t be sharing a room with anyone, he didn’t even share a floor with them. Each of them had a luxury apartment to themselves with a bedroom, a guest bedroom, two ensuite bathrooms, a third bathroom with a  _ huge  _ shower and bath unit, a living room area and a fully stocked kitchen. 

“Just send a message of your favourite food to  _ s.h.  _ in your contacts and she’ll get it for you.” Michael had said to him, handing him a new phone. Jeremy scrolled through the contacts and noted that all the Fakes’ initials were there ( _ g.r., j.p., v., m.j.  _ and  _ g.f. _ ) including the as yet unidentified  _ s.h., t.c., a.d., l.j.  _ and  _ m.b. _

He stifled a laugh when he realised that it was the latest Apple phone. 

“The Fakes use iPhones?”

“Vagabond doesn’t.” Michael shrugged.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow at him, “What, he uses a rotary phone to order his groceries or something?”

Michael snorted, “‘Course not. He uses an Android.”

“Same thing.”

When they had gotten to the elevator, Michael pressed the  _ 36  _ button to take them to Jeremy’s floor and dragged his finger up, gesturing to  _ 31, 32, 33, 34, 35  _ and  _ 36\.  _ “These are all our apartments, I’m above you, see?” Next to each number was the Fakes’ initials again (Jeremy spared a thought wondering why they never just used their names), each one laser cut into the metal.  _ 36’ _ s label had been erased, Jeremy noted. There were thin vertical laser cut lines over the section where a name should be that had removed whatever was previously written there.

“You guys just had a spare apartment set up in case you get a new Fake?”

He didn’t miss the pained expression that briefly flashed over Michael’s face. “Something like that.” He said, voice strained. Jeremy wanted to slap a hand to his head at his own stupidity. He forgot Narvaez.

Jeremy had never given Narvaez much of a thought. He had gotten to the City after the man had already been long dead and buried. He had only ever known the Fakes as a quintet. Apart from seeing his name written with theirs in a few old articles he had read while researching, there wasn’t much else he had seen. He wished, in hindsight, that he had taken the time to read up some more on the man. Well, the kid. He had only been in his early twenties when he died. Jeremy remembered a news article with a screenshot from some CCTV footage, showing Geoff, tuxedo and all, laying a bouquet of roses down on the side of the road. The headline had screamed out in bold, black letters:  _ FIRST SIGHTING OF RAMSEY SINCE NARVAEZ’ DEATH.  _ Jeremy remembered the photo clearly, it had struck him as eery and stunning even then. The quality was terrible, but you could clearly see the tall imposing silhouette of Geoff in his black suit, looking down at a small memorial that had been made for the man. It was haunting.

Jeremy turned his head to the side and checked the time. Thirty eight minutes past three o’clock in the morning. He groaned. It seemed like it was going to be a long night.

* * *

The next morning Jeremy rudely awoken by his phone  _ ding _ -ing with an incoming message. Bleary eyed, he blinked at the text notification and flopped back onto his back after seeing who it was from.

_ v. _

_ Come to my office in 5. We’ll discuss your “heist gear”. -The Vagabond. _

Fucking Vagabond. Jeremy checked the time, moaned when he realised it was six o’clock exactly and that he had only fallen asleep an hour ago. He lifted his phone above his face and unlocked it, shooting a message back.

_ j.d. _

_ Your what? Also don’t sign your texts, I know who you are, Vagabond. _

_ v. _

_ My office. 5 minutes. _

_ v. _

_ -The Vagabond. _

Jeremy rolled out of bed and scowled, irked by the Vagabond’s antics.  _ ‘Thanks for nothing, you useless skeleton.’  _ he thought dryly.

Twenty minutes later, he managed to find his way to the Vagabond’s office (his guest room was changed into an office after he had asked Geoff, with no arguments) after spitefully taking his sweet time getting washed and dressed, even taking the time to comb his hair for the first time in months. Looking fresh faced and clean as a whistle, Jeremy walked through the door of the Vagabond’s office.

The office itself wasn’t as torture dungeon chic as Jeremy had imagined. Instead it was much like the rest of the building, monochrome and modern. The only thing that was out of place with the building’s aesthetic was a large desk in the center of the room, exquisitely sculpted with grotesque miniature mahogany gargoyles acting as the desk’s legs. Their disgusting little arms were raised above them, each one bearing the weight of the desk itself, faces contorted with effort as they struggled. It was ghoulish and macabre. Jeremy had to wonder if the desk was the Vagabond’s choice or someone else’s, a prank gift to poke fun at the man’s dramatics. Either way, he hadn’t destroyed it or removed it so on some level, the enigmatic murderer must have liked it.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

The Vagabond sat behind the desk in a enormous black leather armchair, mask on as always, and said nothing. He just turned to look at a large digital clock on the wall that read ‘6:21AM’ in large incriminating digits.

Jeremy shrugged, “There was traffic.” The Vagabond sighed in a way that made Jeremy feel like he was the source of all the Vagabond’s troubles, and he held in a smirk.  _ ‘Don’t wake me up at six in the morning next time, asshole.’ _

_ “Pattillo ordered us to work on your heist gear.”  _ The Vagabond gestured to a simple wooden chair in front of the desk and Jeremy went to take a seat. 

“I don’t think that was an order, more than it was a plea for us to play nicely.”

The Vagabond didn’t reply, instead he reached for a remote and pressed a button, the flat screen television on the wall coming to life.  _ “Amazon.” _

He wasn’t wrong, up on the screen was the Amazon website. Jeremy raised an eyebrow at him and watched as the Vagabond passed over a mouse and keyboard for him to use. He looked at the offerings in silence for a second and then looked back at the screen. “What do I search? ‘Halloween costumes’?”

The Vagabond clenched his fists on the desk but again said nothing.

Jeremy gritted his teeth, agitated at the Vagabond’s attitude. “Dude, I have no idea what I’m doing, I need some help. Am I gonna be a skeleton too? Where did you get your mask from?”

_ “My mask was custom made for me and only me. You cannot buy it anywhere.” _

Jeremy typed  _ ‘Vagabond mask’  _ into the search bar and snorted at the results, “Yes I can, dude. There’s like, a thousand different results here. Look here’s one for little girls!”

_ “Are you finished?”  _ The Vagabond growled at him, voice deep and dangerous. Jeremy scoffed at the show of dramatics. 

“Are  _ you  _ finished being a vague little riddling asshole? I’m trying to actually do something here and all you’re giving me is silence and patronising demands.” Jeremy clenched his jaw. 

_ “Is this funny to you?”  _ The Vagabond spat, human eyes behind the black sockets of the skull icy blue and intense, the skin around the eyes greased black with paint.

“You think I would abandon my entire life because I think it’s  _ funny _ ? I’m here because I got dangerous people coming for me and the Fakes-  _ Ramsey  _ offered me protection.” Jeremy said, voice rising to a yell without meaning it to.

The Vagabond chuckled darkly at him,  _ “You don’t even know what ‘dangerous’ means yet.” _

Jeremy threw his hands into the air, “There you go again! Vague comment, demeaning silence. It’s a broken fucking record with you.”

_ “I’m just trying to protect the Fakes from the worst decision of their lives. Why do you think I wear this mask, Dooley.” _

“Because you get off on it all.” Jeremy made an obscene gesture. “You really all alone,  _ Christian Grey? _ Or do you have some poor bitch tied up around here for your torture porn fantasies?”

The Vagabond stood up, the force of his action propelling his huge armchair back and to the floor.  _ “Your time in this building is temporary, Dooley. Don’t think that because you have a sob story that melts Geoff’s heart that you will ever be one of us or replace anyone.” _

There was a small moment of silence, Jeremy sniffed and looked away, “Fuck this, I’ll figure it out alone.” He stood up and kicked the chair away, flipping the Vagabond off as he went.

He walked out of the office, slamming the door behind him, heart thumping in his chest and mind racing. Fuck the Vagabond.  _ Fuck  _ him. Jeremy could get by without his help, he had stitched up his fair share of makeshift outfits for his younger cousins in the past when money got tight. He knew how to make clothes, he could do this. He didn’t need the fucking Vagabond  _ or  _ anyone else. He could manage on his own. 

* * *

After the fight with the Vagabond, Jeremy had gone back to his apartment and started work on his heist gear. With only the direction of ‘Something that will piss off the Vagabond’ as a starting point, he sent a message to  _ s.h.  _ simply asking for a crap-ton of fabric in the ugliest colours imaginable. Then, after a moment, he sent another text saying, “ _ Oh. And a Stetson.” _

He had lost track of time as he worked, the room darkening as the sun went down and then the automatic lights in his room turning on as the evening drew on. Eventually a message was sent to his phone from Geoff in a group chat he had just been added to.

_ g.r. added j.d. to ‘Crew’ _

_ g.r. to ‘Crew’ _

_ Rec Room. 10.30. _

_ m.j. to ‘Crew’ _

_ Sure thing, boss. _

Jeremy checked the time and looked up from his work for the first time in hours, squinting at the window and to the light polluted night sky. He twisted his back to make the bones in his spine pop and crack like fireworks and stretched his arms above his head.  _ ‘Duty calls.’ _

It took him a good few minutes to work his way to the Rec Room, relying on his tired memories of the previous night to backtrack his way there. He found his way to the big doors eventually and pushed his weight against it to open them. Inside he realised that he was the last one there as all the Fakes turned and faced him from where they were sat on the couch. Geoff stood in front of the television, ready to address them all, only waiting on him. “Jeremy, good to see you didn’t run away into the night, we were getting worried.” Geoff said with a smile, permanently sleepy eyes twinkling.

“Sorry.”

“Sit down, and we’ll get started.”

The only two seats available was one next to The Vagabond and one next to Gavin. Jeremy hesitated before choosing to sit next to Gavin, his argument with The Vagabond a bit too fresh to push his luck. Gavin looked boredly at him and went back to tapping away at his phone to someone named  _ ‘girl’.  _ “Can we start already, I have a plane to catch.”

“Yes but it’s  _ your  _ plane, and you can wait.” Jack said tightly.

Gavin scoffed but didn’t say anything and put away his phone.

“Why are we all here?” Jeremy asked, looking around at the others.

Michael, who was stuffing his face with some toast, supplied him with an answer, “Heistin’, dude.”

“A heist, already?” Jeremy said, voice getting higher in pitch at his shock. “I just joined yesterday!”

Jack smiled at him in pity, “It’s just Geoff’s way of teaching. Learn by doing , that sort of thing.”

“Yup.” Geoff grinned at Jeremy, tattooed hands on his hips, “Threw my own daughter into a shootout once to teach her how to settle arguments.”

_ ‘What the fuck’ _

“Right but- I don’t even know how to use a gun! Or really anything. I was never allowed to heist with my Pops. Too young, he says. Said.” Jeremy corrected.

“No such thing in the world of crime, J.” Michael said, swallow his toast with a loud  _ gulp _ , “I started stealin’ when I was a kid and never stopped. That’s how Geoff found me.”

Gavin snorted at something but didn’t care to explain.

Jack took the cue to help Jeremy settle down, “Geoff’s antics are… to be desired but it’s been proven to work. You’ll be fine. It’s not that big of a heist anyway.”

“What are we heisting?”

Geoff grinned manically, “City Bank.”

A pause.

A breath.

“Okay. Sure. Learn by doing.” Jeremy shook his head in disbelief, “So, what’s the plan?”

Geoff nodded at him and addressed the whole room. “So, we know that there is an armoured truck coming in at 0100 hours with the goods. Our target isn’t the truck, they’ll have planned for us to attack after we hit them last year.”

The Fakes chuckled as if looking back on a fond, nostalgic memory. Jeremy stared at them as if they had two heads.

“Instead, we’re hitting the building itself. Gav, we’ll need you to break us in and keep us invisible.”

“How long for?”

“As long as you can give us.”

Gavin smirked, “Easy. Just get me within five hundred feet.”

“This is a quiet job. Get in, get the money, get out.”

_ “Get da money!”  _ Michael parroted, making Jack laugh. Jeremy ducked his head as he grinned.

“Michael, Jack. You’re our drivers. We’ll have a van and a car, Jack drives Gavin and I in the van, Michael drives Jeremy and Vagabond in the car.”

Michael and Jack both nodded while Jeremy’s smile faded. He looked over to the Vagabond and saw him purposefully not look back. Jeremy could play that game.

“Jeremy, you’re going in with Vagabond first, we need you to scout the area and make sure the guards are down before we go in after you. Vagabond will take the East Wing, you’ll take the West. Meetup back at the gates and let us in. Then we’ll head to the money.”

“Intel says there should be around $200,000 in there.” Gavin informed them, tone serious and professional for the first time, “Have fun with it.”

“So,” Geoff said, looking at his crew and then finally to Jeremy, “you get all that?”

“...Yeah.”

“No questions?” Michael asked him.

“Well, I mean. I’m slightly curious as to why we’re doing it when it’s closed as opposed to in the day, isn’t that what criminals do?”

Geoff smiled, enjoying Jeremy’s challenging tone. “One, you can’t say ‘criminals’ when you’re one of us and two, I wanna reduce the risk of hostages as much as possible. Vagabond doesn’t like them and neither do I."

Michael cackled at the Vagabond, and the masked man ignored him. Probably a good call. Jeremy nodded, “I don’t either. Just some heisting is good enough for me.”

“Then it’s settled. The 27th, 12am. Be ready to go. Alright now, fuck off.” Geoff announced in lieu of a dismissal but then looked up at Jeremy and beckoned him forward, “Jeremy, come here.”

Jeremy walked over to him but gave the rest of the crew a look as they all wandered off to go back to their apartments or to do their own thing, Michael punching his arm in farewell, leaving just Jeremy and Geoff alone. “Yeah, uh, boss?”

Geoff hopped up onto the arm of the sofa and crossed his inked arms, looking at Jeremy with intent eyes, “You gonna be ready for this?”

“I should be. Vagabond and I worked on my outfit today.”

“Yeah? How’d that go?” Geoff smiled, though there was something different now. “V doesn’t seem like he would have been much help for that.”

“Oh, he wasn’t.”

“But you managed to get something together anyway?”

“Almost.”

“...Should I even ask what it’s gonna be?”

Jeremy smirked, “Probably best to leave it as a surprise.”

Geoff huffed and shook his head, “Alright, well as long as it’s not you running around naked then I’m fine with it.” Geoff took him in, and Jeremy noticed his eyes crawl over the faded scars on his face. Jeremy shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Geoff snapped his eyes away, noticing his discomfort and smiled, “You really don’t know how to shoot a gun?”

Jeremy shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, looking away from him, “Was never taught.”

“Your Dad always seemed like the type to teach his kids how to shoot a gun the moment they were born though.” Geoff laughed fondly, eyes distant, “Suppose you can’t know for certain about how someone’s gonna raise a kid.”

Jeremy’s head whipped up to stare at Geoff in shock, “You know my Dad?!”

Geoff chuckled genuinely at his reaction and ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed, “How’d you think I knew that you were missing! Your Dad and I go way back. Old business buddies. He never tell you about me?”

Mouth agape, Jeremy shook his head slowly.

“That bastard. But he always loved family. When you were born-“ Geoff stopped and shook his head, “It doesn’t matter. When you went missing he called me up immediately, frantically asking if I had seen you. Then you show up in my City and I learnt what happened well- I couldn’t let you go on by yourself like that. You’re practically… you’re one of us, right?”

Jeremy swallowed, mouth dry. “Y-Yeah. I think so.”

Geoff smiled at him, his face kind and relaxed. A moment passed and Jeremy awkwardly looked away, Geoff taking that cue to take his leave. “I should get going anyhow. Kids to feed, a skeleton to sing to sleep.”

He went to the door and hesitated, “Jeremy. I know that the Vagabond is being tough on you. He’s just scared. Just like you. Prove to him on this heist that you can do your job and do it  _ well  _ and it’ll warm you up to him. He’s a softy inside that bonehead of his.”

“But, how do I  _ know _ that.”

The corners of Geoff’s lips raised in a whisper of a smile and his tired eyes glinted, “You think he joined the Fakes willingly? He fought tooth and nail to be independent and look at him now. He doesn’t trust easy is all.”

Jeremy looked down and at his hands that had at some clenched into fists when the subject turned to the Vagabond. He sighed and loosened them, letting them relax. “Right.”

Geoff nodded at him, “Shooting practice. Tomorrow with me and Michael. You two seem to get on well. Oh, and head to Jack’s place, she’ll need to take some blood incase she gets you on her bed.”

“What?”

“Her  _ medical  _ bed, you horny little bastard, you. She’s our medic.” 

With one final wave Geoff headed out the door and Jeremy could here his whistling to himself as he made his way down the hallway.

* * *

“Jack, can I ask you something?”

“If you stop moving, yes.”

Jack’s guest room, like the Vagabond’s, had been modified. Instead of a normal bedroom it had been transformed into a makeshift hospital fitted with everything she might need in an emergency. Jeremy was sat on the bed, arm cleaned and needle slowly filling up a bag with his blood. Jeremy watched, slightly woozy, Jack flutter around and work.

“How did you and Geoff meet?”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply straight away, instead pulling up a comfy arm chair to sit across from him, carefully as not to knock the needle and blood bag, “Geoff and I go way back, since before the Fakes. We were petty thieves together. He had dreams of doing bigger and grander jobs and I wanted to help and then-” Jack pulled back for a second and looked away wistfully, “Well here we are.”

“You two were childhood friends?”

Jack tilted her head, “Something like that.”

Jeremy waved his non-needled hand in a ‘go on’ motion and she sighed. “We were in the army together. Two dumb kids, in shit way above their heads. The boys weren’t too kind to me and Geoff, this skinny twig with ears, stood up for me. He’s always been like that.”

“Cause you were the only girl?”

“Cause I’m trans.”

“Oh."

Jack smiled at him, “That scare you?”

Jeremy thought for a moment, looking at her, “No. Of course not.”

“Course he didn’t know  _ why  _ the boys hated me so much. Just saw the boys picking on the new recruit and went over to get in their way. When I told him later who I am,  _ boy  _ did he blush.” She let out a fond laugh.

“And you’ve stuck together since?” Jeremy asked, voice quiet.

“Yep. Through thick and thin, I’m the thick and he’s the thin.” She patted her arms, and smiled. “Why’d you ask?”

He sighed, “I’m starting to wonder if anything I know is true. I’ve been here a day and already you guys are so… different to what I was expecting.”

Jack winced and smiled apologetically, “Sorry, I know it’s been a weird first day. I heard you and V fighting.”

“Heard-?”

Jack point to the ground, “He’s usually not a noisy neighbor but I think something set him off…?”

“Jesus,” Jeremy ran a hand through his hair, “Does everyone know?”

“Only me. And maybe Gavin, he’s below V. And if Gavin knows… yeah. Everyone knows.”

“Great.”

Jeremy looked down at his hands, thinking over everything. Jack’s eyes wandered over his face, and his scars. “Jeremy? Why did you stay?” He looked up at her, “You just don’t seem very comfortable here.”

He shrugged, back suddenly tense. “Did I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice.” She said, seriously. She brushed her red hair behind her ear, “You could have left. This place isn’t your prison.”

Jeremy ran his tongue along the ridge of his lip scar nervously, “You telling me you wouldn't have set the Vagabond on me to keep me quiet if I had left?” He saw her flinch and her shoulders bunch up awkwardly.

“That’s not how we do things.”

“So you don’t stalk people, bug their apartments and refuse to leave them alone if they say no?”

Jack let out a stuttered breath, “I’m sorry. About all of that.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not really.” Jack looked at him, her eyes trained on his, rather than his scars, “We were all worried about you.”

He grinned, “Somehow I doubt that Gavin and the Vagabond cared all that much.”

Jack smiled wide back at him, her eyes friendly. “No, I suppose you're right.” She was wearing a pretty sundress, blue and green with a billowing skirt. She played with the fabric, rubbing it against her fingers in a slow almost hypnotic rhythm. Jeremy found he couldn’t look away. Lulled into a dreamy state from her deep voice, sweet and motherly. Though, it could have been the blood loss, he felt at peace with her. 

“I’m sorry you were hurt.” she continued. “I’m sorry that you had to abandon everything from your life. I’m sorry you had a rocky start in the City and I’m sorry we weren’t exactly welcoming. The Fakes are a family though, and each and every one of us come from a story not too dissimilar from your own. I can see why Geoff wanted to take you in.”

“Like a stray dog?”

“I suppose so.” She smiled to herself, “After leaving the army Geoff and I both fell on hard times. I couldn’t get a job anywhere and Geoff was… he wasn’t right in the head. So, we turned to crime because we had too. He knew how to get guns, and I knew people with money. After a while we started to make a name for ourselves.” She shook her head, “It’s a weird family. It’s broken, it’s damage, it’s dangerous. But it’s all some of us have.”

“Geoff Ramsey’s House of Stray Criminals” Jeremy joked, voice cracking slightly.

“Kinda, yeah.” She chuckled, “We found Michael on the streets too, just run away from home. Geoff approached him one night after seeing him scrapping with some bigger, stronger guys and took him in. Same with Gavin, on the run from InterPol. Same with Ray--” she stopped, he breathing cutting off. She took a moment to breath deeply and carried on, “and the same with the Vagabond.”

“Geoff Ramsey’s House of Stray Criminals.” Jeremy repeated quietly, more to himself.

Jack looked up at the blood bag and noticed it was practically full and got to work clearing everything away and cleaning up his arm, putting a bandaid over his puncture wound. “Thanks for your blood, J. Hopefully we won't need it but-“ she shrugged casually. “Feel dizzy?”

“Not really just kinda woozy.”

“Stay here ‘til you feel better, if you need to puke-“ she dragged a bucket from under the bed and pointed to it “do it in there. I’ll get you some water.” She headed to the door.

“Jack?” Jeremy called out, and she stopped looking back at him, “Thanks. For everything.”

She looked at him for a second, something twinkling in her eyes, before smiling at him, “You’re welcome, Jeremy.”

* * *

The woman stared out at the City, eyes trailing over the skyscrapers as she waited. She raised her class of bourbon to her lips and took a long, slow sip. “Is he here?” She asked, without turning.

A man, who had just entered her office, clenched his jaw, “Not yet, ma’am. Should we call-“

“Excuse me, I think you’re forgetting who gives the orders here.” She snapped and them sighed, running a hand through her hair. “It’s been months. We should have progressed to Stage 2 by now.”

The man didn’t say anything, knowing better. 

“If he doesn’t give us the orders to move forward soon we’re going to miss our chance.” She pondered. “We need to make contact. And soon.”

“When, ma’am?” The man asked, phone out, ready to relay her orders.

“Soon.” She took another sip, and drew her own phone out of her pocket. She unlocked it and stared at her mission statement. A low quality photo of Jeremy Dooley taken a few days ago in the streets of  _ her  _ city was displayed on the screen, “Soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was always very important to me to focus more on the 'found family' aspect of the Fakes rather than the crime aspect. Jeremy lost his family but is now being tentatively invited into a new one. Not everyone is going to be as welcoming. The Vagabond and Gavin might need to have Jeremy prove himself before they can open up to him.... Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's five months to the next NaNoWriMo so I should probably work my ass off trying to get this one posted, huh?
> 
> Happy Father's Day to those who celebrate it, and if you don't, happy Sunday!


	5. Chapter 5

_ "What is the point of being alive if you don't at least try to do something remarkable?"  _   
**— John Green, An Abundance of Katherines**

* * *

 

The shooting range was as high tech and fancy as the rest of the building. It seemed that Gavin had been allowed to have his way with the entire building and was slowly upgrading everything from the toaster to the shower jets. Jeremy had noticed that most if not all of the technology in the building had a very sleek golden ‘G’ branded into the metal. The range was equipped with head-up display statistics that would show them their accuracy, reaction time and highlight the dummies at the end of the strip, which were significantly battered and coming apart at the seams.

“It’s like a video game.” Jeremy admired, running a hand over the skinny, sleek screens that wavered slightly with his touch.

“It’s  _ exactly  _ like a video game.” Michael grinned, picking up his choice of gun and showing off by twirling it in his hands. Jeremy shook his head but was impressed nonetheless.

“Except in this video game you have one life, and if you miss your target you get thrown in jail.” Geoff came up behind them and pressed a few buttons on the screen, the room whirring to life. The lights on the strip lit up, and the dummies moved closer to them, skating their way forward on their single metal leg that connected them to the track beneath them. “Let’s start you on Level 1, okay?”

Michael laughed at him as Jeremy slumped, shoulders drooping, “Aw man, really?”

“Yes, really. Michael you too.” Geoff picked up on of the pistols laid out and handed it to Jeremy by the barrel, “Point and shoot, but not at any of us.”

“Not even the Vagabond?” Jeremy joked lamely, voice betraying his genuine consideration.

Geoff gave him a look.

Shooting wasn’t like a video game, it turned out. Video games didn’t convey the kickback of the gun into his hand, the smell of burnt matches in the air. Michael was a natural it seemed, but he did have several years of experience on Jeremy .  He was able to shoot his targets easily, swiftly going from dummy to dummy with ease and precision. Jeremy watched, gun in hand and mouth open in awe, as Michael went into a focused trance, tuning them out and only seeing his gun and his target. A professional in action.

Geoff focused all of his energy on Jeremy, telling him what to do, how to stand, where to aim. Jeremy knew that Geoff was trained to shoot in the army when he was just a teenager and that military work ethic came through in the way his taught, barking out instructions for Jeremy to follow. After a few rounds, Jeremy went from fumbling with the gun, all clumsy fingers and unsure firing, to more confident and sure movements. Jeremy fired his gun and jumped back in shock when he saw the dummy being sent backwards from the impact. He let out a surprised bark of laughter and turned to Michael and Geoff with bright eyes and a large, toothy grin.

_ “Did you see that?!” _

Michael grinned back at him and gave him a high five, “Nice one, Lil J!”

Geoff nodded at him, his own eyes twinkling, “That  _ was  _ a good shot. But your stance was all wrong. You need to plant your feet more securely otherwise you’re gonna fall over from the kickback.”

Jeremy’s smile faded and Michael raised an eyebrow at him, “Yeah, but he’s still learning. Right, Geoff? He’ll be a pro in no time!”

“Mm.” 

MIchael sighed and shrugged his shoulders apologetically at Jeremy, who just waved his hand in dismissal, “That’s fine, like this?” He moved his feet to be shoulder width apart and put on foot in front of the other, planting the soles of his feet on the ground flat. Geoff hummed a little and kicked at his forward foot, seeing if he was balanced. When Jeremy didn’t move he pulled a face that seemed to read:  _ Not bad. _

“Alright, take your time with this one and focus in on the dummy’s head. Breathe, take it slow, focus on your aim and studying your hand.” Geoff told him, coming round the back of Jeremy to watch him aim. Jeremy clenched his jaw and his eyebrow twitched, adjusting his grip on the gun. He let himself breathe and tried to zone the guys out. Slowly, his vision centred and his peripheral view of Michael, Geoff and the range faded out and the only thing he could see was the dummy. 

_ BANG. _

The dummy’s head split in two from the impact of Jeremy’s bullet, and Michael cheered for him by his side. He felt a strong, large hand slap onto his shoulder and turned around to see Geoff smiling proudly at him.   
“Nice work, dude!” Michael applauded, voice high and childlike in its excitement.

“Very nice work, Jeremy.” Geoff agreed, tone warm. “Now we can move on from the easy peasy stuff and go into hard mode!”

Jeremy and Michael both groaned loudly as the dummies spun away and were replace with more aggressive metal dummies with their own guns. Geoff just laughed cruelly.

* * *

“Where the  _ fuck _ is Jeremy?”

The Fakes- sans Jeremy- were all standing around in the garage, decked out in their iconic outfits. Geoff in his tux, Jack in her Hawaiian shirt and baby blue striped shorts, Vagabond in his skull and leather jacket combo, Gavin in his shades and dress shirt and Michael in his brown leather jacket with the embroidered wolf on the back. Michael sighed and leaned against their Heist-mobile, a black 1920’s limousine with their logo on the bonnet, “Probably just finding his way to the garage. He’ll be here soon.”

Gavin was sat in the back seat, leaning out of the window, “If he isn’t here in three minutes, I say we go without him.”

“Fuck off, Gavin.” Michael snapped.

“What? I’m just saying-!”

“Yeah, well don’t.” He said, and looked at Geoff who was staring at the doors leading to the building waiting for Jeremy to come out. “You okay, boss?”

Geoff straightened himself out and sniffed, “Gavin’s right, if he isn’t here soon, we’re leaving without him.” Jack looked over at Geoff with wide eyes but didn’t say anything, instead furrowing her eyebrows and looking over to the door herself, as if willing Jeremy to arrive.

“Geoff-!” Michael spluttered.

“ _ Michael.”  _ Geoff returned in a calm but imposing tone.

The Vagabond huffed loudly from where he sat on the bonnet of one of their many cars,  _ “This doesn’t bode well for his career as a Fake, Geoff.” _

“Right, like you were perfect on your first ever heist, Mr Tripped-Over-Three-Cops-Causing-A-Cop-Dogpile.” Michael sneered, ignoring the Vagabond’s animalistic growls in response, flipping him off. “Geoff, he’ll be here.”

The garage door swung open and there he stood in all his glory.

If you had to picture a catastrophe as an abstract theme, it would have looked like Jeremy.

Jeremy was stood there, grinning assuredly, in the worst outfit they had ever seen. The first monstrosity was his bright purple blazer worn on top of an equally as brilliant and equally as horrifying neon orange shirt. Unable to look away Michael panned his eyes down to hideous mustard yellow dress pants, almost blinding in their obnoxiousness. To finish off Jeremy had decided to don a white stetson and shades, with a pair of black fingerless gloves. He looked like a disaster.

There was dead silence in the garage, until it was broken by Michael  _ cackling  _ and lurching forward, clutching at his stomach as he heaved and guffawed. His reaction seemed to unfreeze the rest of the Fakes as they laughed along with him, all apart from the Vagabond who was stiff as a board and had his fists clenched to his side.

_ “Holy shit,  _ was that worth the wait!” Michael screeched, eyes scrunched and glasses fogging up as he continued to laugh. “Jeremy, what the  _ fuck,  _ you’re a freak!”

Jeremy pulled at his collar and drawled in a deep Southern accent, “Who’s this Jeremy, fella? The name’s Rimmy Tim, boy. Y’all better not forget.”

Michael fell to the floor, unable to control the sheer force of his laughter now.  _ “Rimmy Tim, what the-?!” _

Jack walked over to him and picked at his blazer, “Did you make this?”

Jeremy, or rather, Rimmy Tim shrugged and smirked slightly, “Yes, ma’am! Made in Austin,  _ gen-u-ine _ Texan craftsmanship. Been making clothes all my life, just like my Daddy before me.”

Her face lit up and she beamed at him, “Made in Austin, huh? Just like me.”

Gavin let out a loud, exaggerated sigh and pulled down his shades to cover his eyes, almost as if Jeremy’s outfit was too bright for his eyes, “Yeah, hi? We have a bank heist to do? Armoured truck? Am I the only one who remembers?” 

Geoff thinned his lips, trying to subdue his amusement and put on a serious face, “Alright uh, Rimmy Tim, nice to meet you. Let’s get on with it then.”

They all piled into their designated cars, Rimmy Tim giving the Vagabond a wide berth as he climbed in first. Although seeing the Vagabond seethe after how he had treated Jeremy had been satisfying, they still had a heist to go to and he would rather not be strangled in the back of Michael’s car before they even arrived. The mood in the car was tense, the Vagabond quietly stewing in the passenger seat.

Geoff, Jack and Gavin’s car took the lead opening up the large garage doors and letting themselves out. Michael followed behind them and pressed a button on the dash to close the door behind him. Michael was quiet as they drove, as were Rimmy Tim and Vagabond. That was until the Vagabond growled to himself and went through the motions of clenching and unclenching his fists. 

Rimmy looked over to him and rolled his eyes, “Hey Michael, you forgot to feed your guard dog.”

Michael snickered to himself, “Hey, wanna Scooby snack, Vagabond? They’re stale but still good.”

_ “Fuck you.” _

Rimmy Tim locked eyes with Michael in the rear view mirror and grinned impishly at him. “Seriously though,  _ Vag _ , you gotta calm down. We have a job to do.”

_ “Lost your accent already?”  _ Vagabond asked, mock sweetly but each word laced with poison.

He stopped smiling but quickly shrugged it off, quickly changing back to his Southern accent. “Rimmy Tim is a master of disguise. Is he from the South? Is he from Britain? You’ll never know.”

_ “I despise you.” _

“Yeah, well. I ain’t too fond of you either, big guy.”

Michael looked between them cautiously, “You guys gonna be okay in there?”

_ “I’m not a babysitter.”  _ Vagabond said bluntly,  _ “If he dies in there it’s his own fault.” _

Rimmy Tim sank in his seat, looking out at the city as they drove past the tall buildings that he had yet to grow accustomed to, “Thanks, pal.”

A shrill buzz sounded from the radio and Gavin’s voice was heard through the static and interference,  _ “BZZZT--! Team Alpha, do you copy? Alpha? You there? For Christ’s sake, answer the damned coms, Jones! Over.” _

Michael pressed a button on the radio and spoke aloud, “Yeah, I’m here, Team Beta. What’s up? Over.”

_ “We’re nearing the first stop, get your boys ready, and make sure they aren’t at each other’s throats, Ramsey’s worried the bastards will kill each other. Over.” _

“Roger that, Free.” He looked over to the Vagabond, “And you’re on speaker by the way.”

_ “...Oh, for Christ’s sake--BZZZT!” _

Michael turned off the radio and laughed uncomfortably, clearing his throat and focusing on driving instead of making eye contact with them.

After a few more minutes of driving, Jack turned right off of the main road and onto a dirt trail, parking a little ways up, away from the main road’s sight. Michael followed them and parked next to them. They all climbed out of their vehicles and suddenly it was like a scene from an action movie. Geoff opened up the back of the van to reveal all of Gavin’s equipment, a dozen laptops all in a circle with wires upon wires connecting them all. Lights flickered all around the van and there was hardware in that van that he couldn't even begin to name.

“‘Scuse me,  _ ‘Rimothy’ _ . I have work to do.” Gavin said as he brushed past him and went towards Geoff. 

Michael had opened up the back of the car they had driven here in and was handing out the weapons, he turned to Rimmy Tim and smiled handing him his pistol, “You’d better hope Geoff’s lessons were enough.”

“Boy, where I’m from we give guns to babies to defend themselves from the wild  _ cy-otes _ .” Rimmy Tim said with a charming smile.

Michael shook his head and laughed softly, “You’re fucking killin’ me with that, man.”

Gavin cleared his throat from behind them, “Alright everyone, I’ll be out here waiting for the word, once you’re done you  _ call me  _ on this-” he threw a walkie talkie to Jeremy and the others, “-on channel 3, okay?  _ Don’t _ use first names, don’t give details, don’t give out any information that can be recorded and used against us. Just say, ‘We’re finished here’ and We’ll bring the cars around. Got it, rookie?”

“Got it.” Jeremy nodded while inspecting the walkie talkie. “You can build new tech like nobody’s business but you still use walkie talkies?”

Gavin glared at him, “If I used my super cool tech on a heist and  _ you  _ dropped it, it would be in the hands of the enemy and they would use it against us,  _ Rimmy.” _

“Also, Gavin thinks making cool gadgets for heists is below him and gets Bragg to do it instead.” Michael said punching him in the arm and driving a knuckle into Gavin’s head.

Gavin squawked indignantly and frowned at his friend, “Like Bragg’s tech could ever even compare with mine.” 

_ “What are the rules on killing.”  _ The Vagabond’s voice cut through Michael and Gavin’s squabbling and stopped them before they could waste any more time.

“Well, obviously don’t fucking kill each other,” Jack piped up, giving them a warning look, “anyone else is fair game though, especially if they shoot first.”

“But no hostages.” Jeremy reminded.

“Right. No hostages.” Jack paused, “Don’t fuck it up.”

Geoff remained silent through their bickering and let Gavin give the orders, taking the backseat and watching them all get ready. His eyes flickered over to Jeremy for a moment before looking back away.

“Alright boys, I’ll disable the back entrance gates momentarily and disable the cameras. Only when I tell you it’s safe will you move in. Jeremy-”

“Rimmy.”

“Right, Rimmy you have the West wing. Once you go in through the back it’ll be directly to your left. There will be a nighttime security guard roaming the halls but you should be able to bip him easily enough. Once he’s down, be on the alert for any of his friends to come around the corner, be quick on your toes.” He turned to the Vagabond, “You’ll be in the East wing, there are two floors to it but you should be fine. Take your time with it and stick to the shadows. Take out anyone you see. When you’re both done, use your walkies to tell us your wing is clear and Geoff, Michael and Jack will meet you before you head to the vaults. Just protect them from there with the Vagabond, make sure no one comes your way. Got it?”

Everyone nodded and Geoff took the lead, “C’mon assholes, let’s heist.”

* * *

Being a nighttime security guard paid well, but you really weren’t given as many breaks as he would like.

_ “You are loved. Breathe in. You are valued. Breathe out. You are wonderful. Breathe in. You aren’t alone. Breathe out.” _

God, his feet hurt.

He walked down the familiar hallways, going through his first walkabout of the night shift. He scratched his face and yawned, exhaustion already deeply settled into his bones, even though he was only an hour into his shift. The argument with Sandra had worn him out, and the kids’ reaction to the divorce was less than great. He sighed deeply and let the warm, friendly tones of the woman in his headphones wrap around him like a blanket. God, he was tired. He pulled his walkie from his belt and lifted it to his mouth, “Section E-6 clear.”

_ “You have a bright future ahead of you. Breathe in. You have ambitions. Breathe out. You have dreams. Breathe in. You have so much to look forward to. Breathe out.” _

He felt a tap on his shoulder and he took out his earbuds, “Darren, I said I’ve got this floor covered-”

The was a six feet tall shadowy figure in a black skull mask in front of him.  _ “I got this floor covered too.”  _ the figure said, lifting a gun to his head and pressing it against his forehead,  _ “Section E-6 clear.” _

* * *

Gavin had frozen the cameras, repeating the same looped footage of the guard’s patrolling to let them be invisible. RImmy walked down the empty hallway quietly, feet light and heart thudding in his chest.  _ “Rimmy, down this hallway and to your right there should be a guard, you have to take him out, he’s the closest guard to the alarm systems.”  _ He looked up at the security camera where Gavin was watching him and mouthed  _ ‘How?!’ _ . Gavin sighed,  _ “You have a gun, don’t you? Light ‘em up, cowboy.” _

He flipped off the camera and he ignored Gavin’s snickering in his ears, instead swallowing his heart and continuing down the hallway. He made his way to the corner and pressed himself to the wall.  _ “Yep he’s there, take him out.”   _ Gavin ordered him. Rimmy breathed heavily and pulled his gun out from the back of his trousers, holding it up. He counted to three and quickly spun around the corner with his gun pointed towards the guard. The guard who immediately noticed him and drew his gun out on him too.

They both stood for a shocked second, just staring at each other, the guard looking at his getup in scared confusion. Gavin started whistling  _ ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly’ _ s theme as they locked eyes with each other. “Who the fuck are you?!” the guard yelled, arms giving away his nerves as the trembled. Rimmy lowered his gun slightly, and slowly walked towards him. The guard repositioned his gun, “Stay the fuck back!”

“Well now, that’s no way to greet a visitor.” Rimmy said, in his Southern accent, and held up his gun to show he wasn’t dangerous, “It’s a mighty fine establishment you got here.”

“Stand back, I’m calling the cops!”

Rimmy took another step closer, eyes shifting to the alarm controls next to the man. “I’m just a simple fella trying to make a living in this city, chief.” Another step, “Y’all gonna shoot a man for the American Dream?”

“I’m calling the fucking cops! Stay right where you are!”

“Gonna lock me up for tryna make somethin’ of myself?” Another step and the guard was shaking more obviously now. 

_ “What are you waiting for?! Shoot him!”  _ Gavin screamed in his ear and Rimmy faltered, hesitating momentarily.

“That’s it, I’m calling the fucking--” 

The guard slammed his arm down on the alarm and the hallway was suddenly filled with light as the alarm blared and people yelled in concern close by. Gavin swore loudly and Rimmy could hear his furiously tapping at his keyboard. Shocked back into motion, Rimmy aimed his gun and fired, bullet being sent straight into the guards fingers. He screamed and was sent backwards from the impact, arm swinging. He fell back onto his ass and clutched his arms close, yelling in pain and his now mangled fingers.

_ “What the fuck happened?!”  _ Michael yelled through the open channel.

_ “Everyone in the building now. Team Alpha needs backup, their cover has been blown.”  _ Gavin rushed out, stressed.  _ “Get in there and help them out!” _

“I’m sorry, I just froze-!” Jeremy yelled over the sudden noise.

_ “You just froze?! On a heist?!” _

_ “Vagabond. Leave it. The cops have been called. Man the doors, wait for Team Beta. Keep the guards and pigs at bay while we get the fucking money.”  _ Geoff ordered.

_ “Rimmy, main building is down that hallway, Vagabond is on his way. Get there right now.”  _ Gavin told him.

“Right. On my way.” Rimmy Tim said, walking down the hallway, ignoring the incapacitated guard on the floor. He ran to the meeting point and saw that the Vagabond was already there, pulling the AK-47 that had been on his back over his shoulder and turning the safety off. He looked up when Rimmy entered and snarled at him, he marched over and shoved him roughly, making Rimmy stumble backwards.

_ “What the fuck were you doing?!” _

“I was doing my job! I just froze up! It’s my first fucking mission, I ain’t exactly a pro at this!”

_ “Yeah, well it might as well be your last ‘cause now we have the cops on our tail and you’ve put all of us at risk!” _

“It wasn’t on purpose!”

_ “Save it, asshole. Get your guns ready and keep your guard up!” _

Rimmy yelled in pure annoyance at the Vagabond, “God, you’re so fucking frustrating!”

_ “Me?! I’m the one doing my fucking job!”  _ the Vagabond screamed.

“Hey, assholes! Stop jerking each other off and get the fucking job done!” Geoff yelled, suddenly behind them with Michael and Jack. “Jones join them,  _ don’t  _ let anyone get past this point. Free, ETA for the cops?”

_ “Ten minutes, and counting.”  _ Gavin informed them over the comms,  _ “Team Alpha, there should be another guard around unless he bolted. Keep your eyes open, I’m trying to find him on cameras now.” _

Michael threw an assault rifle Rimmy’s way, “Use this, your pistol won't do you much good in this fight.”

Rimmy lined up next to Michael, swallowing his urge to defend himself and apologise for fucking up but knowing it would only aggravate the team further. His internal monologue was his worst enemy right now as curses and deep cutting insults boomeranged from his mind. Vagabond took his left and Michael his right, they all aimed their guns and waited.

There was a commotion from beyond the grand doors of the bank ; distinct yells and car door slams were heard. Then suddenly, as soon as it had started, the noises stopped. There wasn’t a single sound around them. All Rimmy could hear was Michael’s heavy but steady breathing and the gentle clinking of the Vagabond shifting his gun in his hands.

Then:  _ chaos _ .

The cops swarmed in, first line of defences geared up and ready for them with body armour and heavy duty weapons. Behind them  were at least a dozen cops with pistols aimed right at them. Michael yelled out in lieu of a battle cry and started firing at the cops ,  the Vagabond taking his lead and also starting his barrage on the cops, Rimmy following suit. The room was filled with deafening noise, gunfire, yelling, screaming and heat filled the room, almost unbearably so. Rimmy shot at arms, legs, any exposed skin he could see. He ducked for cover for a moment behind the large wooden front desk. Michael swore at them, spitting out wordy insult after insult. The Vagabond was silent and threatening, all of his shots precise and not a bullet wasted. As the attack progressed, and as they put a cops out of commission, more and more cops came through the big doors to replace them.

“This isn’t working, there’s too many of them!” Rimmy yelled over the din, “Free! Can you help us out here?!”

_ “Keep at it! I’ll try and help you out from here!”  _ Gavin said from the comms,  _ “You boys wanna see a magic trick?” _

The cops had progressed slightly further than the doors now but they were still a ways away from where Rimmy, Michael and Vagabond were stood. Michael was still roaring, his face now bright red and the veins in his neck sticking out. Rimmy ducked down behind the main desk to reload, “We could really do with that magic trick now, Free!” Rimmy shouted, shooting a cop through the temples. 

_ “I’m working on it! Wait- Here we go! Watch this, Alohomora!” _

Suddenly the grand doors the cops had come through slammed shut, the electric hinges now in the control of Gavin, the cops were trapped in there with them, with no back up able to get in. The cops scurried away from the doors as they closed to avoid getting trapped. 

“Free, that was amazing!” Rimmy laughed happily, and stood up to carry on shooting the remain cops who were trying to scramble away.

Michael stopped yelling and ducked below the main desk, just like Rimmy had, “Yeah, except  _ Alohomora  _ opens doors, moron.”

_ “I never really got into Harry Potter.” _

“You’re the worst Brit in the world.”

_ “It wasn’t realistic!” _

“It’s fiction, asshole!” Michael stood up and reached into his jacket, pulling out a small grenade, “Flashbang!” he yelled and threw it at the swarm of cops. Michael and the Vagabond ducked while Rimmy watched as it got set off. He yelped as he was blinded and deafened by it, stumbling back and landing on his ass. His ears rang and his vision went white and he felt his heart thud against his chest in fear. Slowly he started to hear very, very distant yelling and gunfire, like he was underwater. After a little while he could hear the Vagabond yelling at him.

_ “Get the hell up, Helen Keller, we still have a job to do!” _

His vision came back to him as his eyes adjusted back to normal, “What the fuck, Jones?! Some warning next time would be useful!” he yelled indignantly as he picked up his gun and began to fire again.

“I fucking yelled ‘flashbang’, what the hell else do you want from me? A twenty minute slideshow? Come on!” 

_ “We’re almost done down here, Free find us an exit!”  _ Geoff piped up from the comms. There were only a few cops left at this point, most all downed. Rimmy, Michael and Vagabond all stopped firing and made their way to the doors to take out the rest. Vagabond shot one in the neck and the cop hurtled backwards hitting the wall behind him. Michael took out two in one by shooting one of the cops dead and knocking one that came up behind him with the butt of his rifle. 

_ “Only part of the bank that isn’t as heavily guarded is the fire escape to the office buildings next door, you guys are gonna have to take that and down the fire escape onto the roof of that building. Hope you aren’t scared of heights.” _

Rimmy groaned inwardly at the thought of his having a fear of exactly that but didn’t say anything, figuring that he was already a huge burden on this mission. Fucking heights, though.

_ “Sounds good, how do we get there?”  _ Jack asked on the comms.

_ “Well, you’re gonna need to meet up with Team Alpha at the front desk before heading to the east wings second floor. Vagabond, you remember where I’m talking about?” _

_ “Yeah, I remember seeing a fire escape. It’s just beyond the staircase.” _

_ “Exactly, wait for Team Beta before heading there, don’t leave without them.”  _ Gavin told them.

“Wait,” Rimmy stopped everyone, “What about you? Aren’t you meeting with us?”

_ “It’s better I stay here, the cops haven’t noticed the van yet, but when you guys get here we’re gonna have to haul arse if we wanna get out in one piece.” _

The was a break and then,  _ “We’re on our way.”  _ from Jack.

Michael assessed the destruction of the entrance hall, “Hey, Free. How surrounded are we?”

_ “Eight cop cars and more on their way from what the police radio says. Police stationed at every door, waiting for you. Luckily I’ve locked the doors and used a virus of my very own design to ensure they can’t get in. Not using the codes the bank uses for them anyway. You’re safe for now.” _

Michael rested his foot on one of the downed cop’s face and turned it so he could see the face of his kill more clearly and snorted, “Child’s play.”

They heard footsteps from behind them spun around to see Geoff and Jack come running around the corner, each holding two loot bags, filled to burst with what Rimmy could only assume were stacks upon stacks of bills. “Let’s get outta here!” Geoff order them all, taking control, and gestured for the Vagabond to lead the way. Vagabond nodded and led them all to the East wing the rest of the Fakes following in his path.

They headed up the stairs and made it to the aforementioned fire escape in quicktime.  _ “Free, we’re here. What next?”  _ The Vagabond told him.

_ “Is the window bolted shut? I can’t see any paths to it on my computer.” _

Michael looked at saw that it was indeed bolted shut, “Fuck, yeah it is. What do we do?”

Jack rolled her eyes, grabbed Michael’s rifle and slammed it down into the glass, making it splinter and spiderweb into thousands of cracks, “That’s how we used to do it in my day.” She wrapped up her hand and punch through it to create a big enough hole for them to climb through. “Y’all ready?” 

One by one they headed out of the window, Geoff and Jack first and then Michael. The Vagabond lifted one leg to hook it over the ledge and pull himself through-

_ BANG. _

The Vagabond was flung backwards by the gunshot that had just sounded. Rimmy yelped and looked down the hallway to where a pudgy, sweaty night security guard was standing, one arm raised, his pistol aimed at where the Vagabond had been standing, the other arm was limp by his side, bleeding from a hastily made bandage wrapped around his fingers. The one he had shot, who had set off the alarms. Rimmy heard Michael swear and ask the Vagabond if he was hurt, which he responded with a loud, animalistic grunt. Michael climbed back into the bank and helped the Vagabond stand up, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and making him stand up and walk despite the Vagabond being significantly taller and probably weighing a lot more than Michael did. Rimmy stared at the security guard, eyes blank, mind empty, heart slowed down to a gentle thud.

He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

“Hands where I can see them, asshole!” the security guard yelled. Rimmy raised his gun and the boy started to breathe heavily, breath coming out in small, frantic pants. “Hands where I can see th-!” Rimmy took the shot. The boy’s body fell to the ground ungracefully, his blood pooling from the bullet wound in his chest. 

“Free, the Vagabond’s shot. We’re on our way out now. Keep us invisible.” Rimmy said, looking at the boy’s body once more before going over to the window and climbing out.

_ “Fuck. I-Is he going to be okay?” _

He looked at Jack who looked back at him with dark eyes, “Keep us invisible.’

_ “...Okay.” _

Michael and Jack carried the Vagabond up the stairs while Geoff and Rimmy held onto the money, they were moving too slowly it put them all on edge. But they managed to make it, miraculously, without being seen. The got to the roof and made their way over to the connecting bridge fire escape. Michael and Jack, Vagabond in arms, went first. Geoff next and Rimmy taking up the rear, his mind fuzzy. 

Sirens blared, men yelled and five criminals escaped into the night, each of them silent and dreading the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooooh, cliffhanger. I know, I know. I'm sorry. But you know, sometimes you gotta break a few eggs to make an omelette. Unfortunately the egg I was breaking was The Vagabond... Ouch. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!


	6. Chapter 6

_“Some mistakes... Just have greater consequences than others. But you don't have to let the result of one mistake be the thing that defines you. You have the choice not to let that happen.”_   
**― Jojo Moyes, Me Before You**

* * *

  _Panic on the streets this morning as news breaks of another attack, led by the Fakes, on the City Bank. Dozens of policemen have been left wounded and dozens more were killed on site. The Fakes escaped the police’s grasp once more on their mission to terrorize our city from the inside out. A collective sum of $200,000 was stolen, according to Lieutenant Burns._

_Joining the Fakes was an unidentified male, dressed in a bright cowboy inspired garb, who sources report was called “Rimmy Tim” by the Fakes at the scene. Not much is known about this man, other than a possible Southern origin as audio clips taken from last night reveal his voice to have a definite Texan accent. No clear shot was taken of the man’s face and we are left wondering: Who exactly is this Rimmy Tim? And how dangerous is he?_

_Intel tells us that the Vagabond has been shot and is severely wounded, but there have been no confirmations from the police on this matter. Updates to come in the next few hours, as this story unfolds._

* * *

The room was quiet as Jack worked, though her heart thudded loudly in her ears, blood pumping violently throughout her body. The Vagabond had been stripped down, his waist bared, and mask removed. An anesthesia mask secured firmly over his mouth and nose, pumping him full of sedatives and painkillers to ensure that he wouldn’t suddenly awake while she worked. Jack tried to get over the fact that she was finally seeing her good friend’s face for the first time after _years_ of him never trusting them enough to show himself to them. And he hadn’t even consented to having his face shown. She felt her eyebrows twitch in frustration; he would never trust her after this.

* * *

**_What can you tell us about this mysterious ‘Rimmy Tim’, officer?_ **

_We don’t know much. We think that his outfit and possibly his accent are a character, much like The Vagabond. His true identity remains unknown._

**_Speaking of the Vagabond, have there been any updates on if the Vagabond survived the bullet wound?_ **

_Believe it or not, the Fakes and the police are not on speaking terms. We have no idea if the Vagabond survived and I doubt any of us will know until their next attack._

**_Do you think that Rimmy Tim is the newest member of the Fakes?_ **

_I don’t give a damn if he is or if he isn’t. He, along with the rest of the Fakes are criminals and should be treated as such. They are not the hottest boy band, we should not be gossiping like teenagers about them. They are trained murderers, assassins, and thieves. They are dangerous. 14 men were murdered last night, let’s focus on them. I won’t be taking any more questions. Thank you._

* * *

Jack eased her tweezers into the Vagabond’s wound, carefully feeling for the bullet. The Vagabond wheezed as he slept, pain pushing through all the medication relentlessly. She was lucky, she knew, that she even had this chance to save him. Lucky that he hadn’t died at the bank. Lucky that his face and name weren’t broadcast to the world. Lucky that, whoever he kept safe with his Vagabond alias, didn’t find out he was dead through a gloating news story or a celebratory tweet. Lucky. Jack push the tweezers in further, searching for the bullet. Yeah. She sure felt lucky.

* * *

  ** _So, who do you think the mystery man is?_**

_Well, there are many, many theories out there on who he could be. Whole forums dedicated to figuring out who he is by working out his height from limited CCTV footage. Other groups running the pixelated footage through missing peoples and wanted persons lists._

**_Is that proving fruitful?_ **

_Well, the last I checked they had narrowed it down to a number of people equivalent to a large town._

**_You aren’t convinced?_ **

_I think that we’ll find out who the Fakes are when they die. When their bodies wash up on the shore and their faces and fingerprints have been damaged beyond recognition, probably by the other’s in the group. When their real identities are leaked by an unknown source, and when in fifty years the last remaining Fake writes a tell all novel about their life._

**_You don’t sound very optimistic in the police’s efforts to find them._ **

_Why would I be? It’s been ten years since the Fakes were formed, back when it was just Ramsey and Pattillo. And in those ten years have we ever learnt anything about them? Have we ever come close to catching them?_

**_Well, there was Narvaez._ **

_And his body was never found. They would never let us find his body. He’s either been cremated or he’s been sent to his family to let them have a quiet burial for him._

**_You think the Fakes have families?_ **

_I think they used to. They parade around, faces and last names on display for anyone to see. People like that have nothing to lose._

**_The Vagabond-- and Rimmy Tim too. They dress in costumes and hide their identities. By your logic, would that mean that they have everything to lose?_ **

_That would be the logical conclusion, yes._

* * *

 She had almost given up six times, but each time Jack felt her heart drop in doubt she would drag it back and keep going. Geoff had always said that she never knew when to give up. Tired, and her hope depleting fast she continued to search, digging around for-- _anything._ Anything other than the bloodsoaked, spongy flesh that she was working with. And then, like it was a wish granted by God, she felt something _clink_ against her tweezers. Letting out an involuntary gasp, she hunted for what she had knocked against and eventually managed to get a grip on the bullet. Pulling it out, slowly and being careful to not rip it out of him and cause more damage, she slipped the bullet out of the wound. She stared at the bullet for a moment and breathed out a relieved laugh. Lucky? Luck had nothing to do with it. She was _amazing._

* * *

  _ramseysangels_

_I have to say, I don’t think I agree with @fakefinder’s conclusion that RT is 5”4’. He definitely appears to be shorter than the Vagabond by a whole head, but Jones is only a little bit taller than RT. Maybe he’s something closer to 5”10’?_

_vagaboned_

_Uuuuuuh. @fakefinders has been doing this since 2008 and you made your account three months ago. I think he knows what he’s doing._

_jones-pwned_

_And also if RT was 5”10’ that would make the other Fakes abnormally tall in relation to him. It makes more sense that RT is just short._

_ramseysangels_

_@vagaboned, he’s been doing this since 2008 and yet he’s never actually FOUND and FAKE now has he? lol_

_fakefinders_

_@ramseysangels I have been doing this for ten years. I have 12TB worth of manually collected information on each and every heist, including everything I can gather about their personalities and lives from just small snippets of CCTV/witnesses camera footage. The police have been caught using MY Fakes archives to help them find out who they are. And yet they still remain elusive. Tell me, how would you do it differently? How would you find them?_

_ramseysangels_

_@fakefinders lmao stalker_

_ramseysangels has been removed from the chat._

* * *

 Jeremy was sat in the dining room with the Fakes, minus Jack and the Vagabond. The mood was heavy, the air thick with tension. After somehow managing to avoid the cops that were right on their tail for almost the entirety of the ride back, they had only managed to get away because of Michael and Jack’s practiced-to-perfection driving. Once at their building, Geoff and Jack had immediately scooped the unconscious Vagabond into their arms and carried him upstairs to Jack’s room which would become a makeshift surgery.

Free was sat on the table, hugging his legs, burying his face into his knees. His usually tan face was now pale, his usually pristine hair falling onto his forehead and sticking in random directions. His eyes were faraway, unshed tears making his eyes appear glassy. Geoff was next to him, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. His jaw was clenched and he wasn’t making eye contact with anyone, his dead fish eyes staring at the white walls as his mind raced. Michael was pacing up and down the length of the room, hands running through his hair impatiently, face red and eyes furious.

No one spoke. No one wanted to break that fragile silence. It was agony. Jeremy was thankful that there weren’t any clocks in the room because he knew by now he would have torn it off of the wall and smashed it to pieces. The ticking would have driven him to insanity. But there was no clock in the room, only four silent men. They had been waiting for just over an hour now, in completely silence apart from Michael’s feet padding on the floor as he paced.

Jeremy had a pit in his stomach that had been there from the moment the bullet hit the Vagabond.

“He won’t die, right?” Gavin asked quietly, not looking at anyone. No one in the room said anything for a moment, tense now that he had broken the silence. Michael’s pacing slowed to a stop and his arms dropped like dead weights to his side, eyes on Gavin.

Geoff reached up a hand a rubbed a soothing hand over the tense muscles in Gavin’s neck, stiff from leaning over a computer for most of his days. It was a move that was familiar, that always managed to subdue Gavin.  “He won’t.”

Michael let out a harsh scoff, narrowing his eyes at the two of them. Jeremy didn’t look up at them as they spoke, not feeling that it was his place. He could feel someone’s eyes boring into him, but he refused to look up. Gavin didn’t say anything after that, looking between Michael and Geoff with wet eyes, unsure of himself. Geoff observed Michael’s tense and angry stature and reached out his free arm to him, “Michael, sit down.”

“Geoff, we can’t just-” Michael protested, voice rising in defense but he was cut off by Geoff.

“You can’t hurt yourself over this, sit down with me.” Michael’s body tensed and he looked like he wanted to run away, but Geoff patted the space of table next to him, inviting him in. Michael bit his lower lip, and held in his protests, moving to sit on the table next to the man. Geoff put a hand on each of their shoulders and brought them closer, whisper something to them that Jeremy couldn’t quite make out, before bringing them in for a warm hug.

There was a knock at the door and Jack walked through, in white makeshift scrubs covered in a deep red-- blood. _‘The Vagabond’s blood’_ Jeremy’s unhelpful mind told him. She looked exhausted, usual bright eyes dark and dull, but she had a small soft smile on her face. “He’ll be okay.”

There were huge sighs of relief from all around the room and Gavin let out a large sob and quickly covered his face, allowing himself to have a private cry. Michael whose body had been tense and tightly wound since leaving the bank now unwound, straight back sagging, and head dropping down, exhausted. Geoff nodded and rubbed Michael and Gavin’s backs, making sure that they were okay before he focused on himself.

Jeremy himself felt himself sink into his seat, body weighing so much less now that the tensions he had been holding inside of him all night could finally be let go. Vagabond was okay, he’ll _be_ okay, he’s alive. He was fine, he’s safe, he’s okay, he’s alive. Jeremy watched as Jack walked over to them all and spoke to them softly, her arms coming up to wrap around her boys, and the four of them sharing a much needed moment. Jeremy gazed at them, his heart aching to be a part of their moment but knowing that his presence would just be intrusive.

It was strange. Jeremy had grown up in a crime family, with his father and grandfather being the most dangerous men around and yet, had never experienced actually having a family. People who he was bonded to by love more than blood, who he would do anything for. If someone in his family died or was hurt during a heist it would be discussed at the dinner table and never brought up again, like it was some foreign politics that wasn’t connected to them at all. That was just how Jeremy was raised. His family weren’t a real family, they were co-workers. But this…

The way the Fakes held onto each other, all their hearts connected in a concoction of fear and relief and worry, each helping each other before helping themselves. That was a true family, and none of them were even connected by blood. It made the phrase ‘blood runs thicker than water’ seem laughable, because these men in front of Jeremy had a more emotional, more intense love for each other then any of the men in his family tree. It really was beautiful and heartbreaking.

Jeremy stood up and slipped past them, out of the door and into the hallway. He needed some air.

* * *

 “Do we have confirmation to go ahead?”

She ran a finger over the printed photo of Dooley, donned in a God awful cowboy hat, and tilted her head. “We do, the Boss just called in.” She said absently before snapping herself back to reality, turning around to acknowledge her peer, “He said to move when we see best.”

“But not right away?”

“Are you doubting him?”

The man straightened his back and clenched his jaw, “Of course not.”

She stared at him for a moment, clocking in on the small beads of sweat dripping down his temple. He was nervous, she could understand, they all were. She sighed and smiled at him, “Round up the others, we need to formulate a plan.”

* * *

 Jeremy had spent the last few days avoiding everyone. It wasn’t too hard, none of them were outwardly looking for him either. They were all still furious at him for getting the Vagabond hurt and he didn’t blame them for it. He had gotten a key member hurt- their friend, their _brother._ And all because he froze. All because he didn’t _listen._ Even though he knew this, and even though he accepted it, he couldn’t help but feel his heart clench when he saw Michael look over his way, only to turn away and leave him alone to his thoughts.

In his days away from everyone, he had taken to wandering around the building, finally figuring out where everything was and mapping it all out inside his head. During his walks he found a small balcony at the end of a hallway with two white cream loungers and a coffee table. It was small but peaceful, the view looking out over the ocean rather that the City itself. He had been spending a lot of his time there. He would take his laptop, which had been given to him when he had first arrived, plug in his headphones and just listen to music and bum around on the internet all day, staying out long after the sun had set.

The internet as it turned out, was a terrible place. The first thing he had thought to do was search his name, timidly typing the blocky letters into the search bar and hitting the ‘Enter’ key with his finger. His name was known, always had been, especially in Boston. Before he went on the run, if you had Googled his name you would have gotten photos of him in courtrooms, sat stiffly in amongst the spectator’s, watching family member after family member be tried and released, their friends on the Force working hard to hide any evidence to their crimes. Young, sweaty Jeremy Dooley with sideburns and a set jaw, in a suit with a price tag that no teenager should be wearing. Unsurprisingly though, when he Googled himself now the entire first page was filled with articles about his mysterious disappearance and how he was presumed dead. His heart lurched at an article titled _‘Missing Dooley Clan Member Breaks Hearts’_ with a photo of him and Kat, but he didn’t let himself click on it. Instead, he typed ‘Rimmy Tim’ into the search bar, to see how the news was breaking about his first appearance.

Unsurprisingly, the general reaction was one of confusion laced with some fear. The news that he had murdered the guard who had shot the Vagabond had leaked, and his reputation as a threat was cemented. Small victories, he supposed. His alias and grainy photos from CCTV were everywhere, with a large manhunt for his true identity already underway. He was sucked in reading through the articles and the forum posts, reading theories and speculation, trying to find out if any one had suspected his true identity. He pulled away from the black hole he had fallen down and rubbed at his eyes, not even knowing how long he had been out here.

Jeremy sighed and closed his laptop, pulling his headphones down to rest around his neck, reaching his limit of the internet for that day. His music was still playing from their tinny speakers as he watched the sunset, the sun’s light turning the city a deep shade of pumpkin orange, down on the streets neon purple and blue lights flickered wearily on. The sea calmed as small, mesmerizing waves rolled up on the shore, reflecting the sunlight and making the seafront glimmer as if it was encrusted with diamonds.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” came a familiar voice.

Jeremy jumped in his seat and cranked his head around to see who had spoken. Behind him, leaning against the glass door’s frame, unmasked, was the Vagabond. He had light brown hair that looked almost blonde in the sunset’s light. The same icy blue eyes that Jeremy remembered were now sleepy and warm, eyelids half closed. He had a strong, oval jaw with a short trimmed beard framing his features. He looked… friendly and handsome. Nothing like what Jeremy had envisioned when the Vagabond was first introduced to him. No scars or cuts of any kind. He wasn’t wearing his usual leather jacket anymore either, opting for the more comfortable and less restricting shirt and jeans. As Jeremy looked he noticed an obvious lump around his waist, bandages pushing against the fabric of his shirt and making it bulge outwards. Jeremy flinched at the sight, turning away from him. “Yeah, it is.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, Jeremy doing his best not to look at the man behind him, suddenly looking more real, and more human than Jeremy could handle. The City thrummed below, cars honked and people yelled. There was noise everywhere. Jeremy’s neck burned as the Vagabond watched him. He flexed his jaw, and bit the bullet, “You’re uh- You’re not wearing your mask any more.”

The Vagabond laughed lightly, and had Jeremy ever heard him _laugh_ before? “Well, I’ll still wear it on missions, to maintain my image, of course. Jack needed to take it off during my surgery and well, I didn’t think there was any point to wearing it around you guys any more. Not when you did all that.” The Vagabond told him, voice soft and clear as day.

Jeremy ducked his head, “It looks good.”

“What? My face?” The Vagabond entered his vision and took a seat in the lounger next to him on the other side of the balcony, lifting his feet up and laying down, raising an arm up to come up behind his head, acting as a pillow. Jeremy watched him, unnerved at the sight of the Vagabond… _relaxing._

“Uh, yeah.” Jeremy said and inwardly slapped himself across the face. Will he ever say anything to the Vagabond that doesn’t instantly make him want to die. Outcome not likely. “It’s good to see you though, Vagabond. They were- We were all worried about you.”

A beat.

“You can call me Ryan now, I suppose. Ryan Haywood.”

Jeremy’s heart thudded against his ribcage and his breath caught in his throat, eyes snapping to the Vagabond to gawk at him. “Wait- Your real name is _Ryan_?”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” The Vagabond, Ryan, asked. His eyebrows narrowed and his lower lip jutted out, offended. Jeremy wasn’t even gonna start on how bizarre this was.

“Nothing!” Jeremy assured him, hands coming up to wave away any accusations, “Nothing, I just- Nevermind.”

Ryan hummed to himself in suspicion and Jeremy huffed out a laugh at his ridiculousness. It was so strange how this man, who looked so simple and kind, had been the very same man who had elicited such fear and intimidation in Jeremy’s mind. The Vagabond and Ryan Haywood have so many things about them that are different that Jeremy wondered if that was what Ryan had meant when he had said that he didn’t wear his mask for fun. It was because he was building the Vagabond to be everything he wasn’t.

And Jeremy understood now, why he had reacted so badly to Jeremy’s flippancy. Why he had protected himself from everyone, even the other Fakes. Not only was the Vagabond a mask to hide his face but a whole other entity to remove Ryan Haywood entirely. It was built up in such a way that he would never, ever be connected to The Vagabond’s crimes. No one in their right mind would look at Ryan and say that he looked like a criminal, no one in their right mind would say he looked able to kill. His alias, The Vagabond, and the reputation that name carried. It was terrifying. And yet here he was unmasked, playful and lighthearted.

“I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting.” Ryan said, suddenly, his tone more serious than it had been before.

“...What?”

Ryan was looking out over the sea, jaw set and eyes distant, “I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you, especially when you were already under so much stress.”

“ _What?_ Ryan, you- I got you _shot!_ I should be the one apologising, I’m so sorry!” Jeremy insisted.

“I should have seen him, I should have shot first.”

“Yeah, but he was only there because I didn’t kill him in the first place!”

Ryan chuckled to himself and hung his head, “Even when we’re being nice to each other we argue.”

Jeremy stopped and smiled at him, “Uh, wanna do a ‘we’re both stupid and arrogant’ truce?”

“Sounds good to me.”

They both sat in silence for a little while, watching as the sun slowly went down, the last slivers of natural light disappearing on the horizon. Jeremy fiddled with his hands and cracked his knuckles, eyes flickering between the view and the bandages on Ryan’s waist. “How… How are you feeling?”

“Right now?” Ryan asked, raising an eyebrow, “I’m kinda hungry.”

“No, I mean. Your wound.”

“Oh.” Ryan looked down and lifted his shirt so Jeremy could see. The bandages were clean and professionally applied, and there wasn’t a single blood stain seeping through. Jeremy’s mind flashed back with the image of Jack in her makeshift scrubs that were covered in Ryan’s blood. He breathed in sharply and leant back, “Jesus.”

“Jack did a great job, though she’s not letting me go on any heists for the foreseeable future which sucks-”

“ _Fuck_.” Jeremy rested his head in his hands, and tried to breathe.

Ryan looked over to him curiously, “Jeremy?”

“How do you-” Jeremy started, his throat catching, “How do you guys _do_ this all the time? How do you not fucking- I’ve been on one heist and my brain feels like it’s getting torn apart from stress.”

Ryan moved over to sit next to him, running a hand across his back to soothe him, “Hey, it’s okay. We all have bad days-”

“I got you fucking shot, Ryan.”

“And I’m still here, right?” he said, trying to pry Jeremy’s hands away from his face, “Listen, Jeremy, you can’t beat yourself up over this. Not in this line of work. Sometimes, people get hurt.”

Jeremy sniffed and looked at Ryan, but he wasn’t back. Instead he was looking at the ground, eyes glassy and tired. “People get hurt and there’s nothing you can do. It’s hard, God. It’s always hard. But you just need to learn from it, and grow. Be better, do better, so that next time? No one gets hurt.”

Ryan’s eyes misted over with a memory, and Jeremy watched as he shook it away, “You’ll be fine, J. You’re strong enough to not let this beat you down.”

“Ryan?” Jeremy asked, voice quiet now. The atmosphere they had created was fragile, and Jeremy felt like any wrong move would shatter it. Time stopped around them and the City was silent. “When you wear the mask… who are you protecting?” Ryan didn’t answer, but Jeremy could feel him tense. Jeremy sighed and looked up to the sky, “I’m protecting my fiance. And my friends back home. My family too, to an extent. The people who hurt me threatened their lives and I don’t want to be the reason they get hurt.”

Somewhere in the City, there was someone playing the piano. The delicate notes drifted through the air peacefully, uncaring of who heard it.

“I have… people I need to look after.” Ryan said, simply, his voice tight and gravelly. Jeremy didn’t expect him to expand on that so he took the slight bit of information he was given and didn’t push him for more. If Ryan wanted to tell him, then he would. But revealing his face and just that small snippet was already much more than he had ever given before.

“Thank you, Ryan.”

Ryan cleared his throat and nudged Jeremy’s side in an awkward, yet friendly manner. It was a start.

Then, another silence. Though, this time it was comfortable and calm. They sat in silence and listened to the City’s never ending noise. Tire screeches and yelling providing a backdrop to their shared solitude. After a few minutes, Ryan shivered and rubbed his bare arms, “Fuck, I’m freezing. She made me leave the jacket ‘cause it was too restricting on the wound but look at me now! I’m sure the cold isn’t good for it either.”

“I’m sure Jack knows what she’s doing, Ryan.”

“Yeah, she’s ruining my aesthetic.” he pouted, childishly. He stood up and stretched carefully, lifting his arms high above his head before relaxing with a satisfied sigh. “You coming inside?”

“No, I think I’m just gonna stay out here for a while, dude.”

“Fine by me, just don’t freeze to death. No one wants to do that paperwork.” Ryan winked and saluted at him, turning on his heel smoothly and making his way to the glass door, sliding it open. He hovered for a moment at the door frame and looked back at Jeremy with a soft expression, “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast…?”

“...Yeah, I’ll see you. Thanks, Ryan.”

“No problem, Rimmy Tim.” He smiled widely and threw up a peace sign before leaving Jeremy to his thoughts.

* * *

Life with the Fakes slowly started getting back to normal after Ryan and Jeremy’s conversation. Well, it got to be as ‘normal’ as being a part of a highly dangerous crime syndicate could be. Geoff seemed to always be busy with actual business stuff and so Jeremy saw less and less of the man, but the few instances that they would see each other at the meals with everyone, Geoff would greet him with a warm smile and friendly banter as if Jeremy hadn’t almost gotten his skeletal protégé killed.

Jack was as friendly as ever, bustling around like the mother hen she was. Fretting over the Fakes as if they were her children, wondering when the last time they ate was, and asking if they’d been sleeping well. As motherly and kind as she was, she was also no nonsense and would often see through Jeremy’s lies about his health and force him to eat at the threat of death if he didn’t.

Ryan was… healing. Mostly forced to be on bedrest by Jack, he could be seen wandering around the halls, maskless now, with crutches and a permanent tired sag to his face. He had taken to bringing a book with him to the balcony that he and Jeremy had spoken on, laying on one of the loungers with his shoes off, and sinking into whatever story he had brought with him. Jeremy would join him most days, with his laptop and headphones, the two of them sitting in a comfortable silence together until one of them got hungry or bored and left.

Michael, despite how he had initially reacted, was better than ever. He was as high energy as he usually was, happily talking Jeremy’s ear off about this, that or the other whenever they saw each other. Jeremy suspected that he was putting on a brave face for the rest of the team, to try and maintain somewhat of a norm after the failure of their last heist. And if not for the rest of the team, then especially so for Gavin.

Gavin, himself, hadn’t spoken to Jeremy since the heist and he hadn’t really seen him around the building either. He didn’t show up to their meals, instead eating in his apartment. He seemed to just never walk about the hallways because Jeremy never seemed to bump into him like he did with everyone else. And it didn’t take long for the paranoia in Jeremy’s head to flare up and convince him that Gavin was purposefully avoiding him because of what happened.

Jeremy hadn’t gotten the impression that Ryan and Gavin were particularly close just from the handful of times they had interacted in front of him, if anything they both seemed to annoy each other. Gavin would annoy Ryan by being too hyper or too loud, Gavin purposefully getting into Ryan’s personal space and making him feel uncomfortable at his implied knowledge of his past. Ryan on the other hand seemed to annoy Gavin by not reacting as dramatically as he would have liked to his pranks and banter. The two of them together reminded Jeremy of how smaller dogs will yap and jump on older, bigger dogs to play with them, and the older dogs would simply ignore them and go to sleep.

But then, he remembered how Gavin’s voice shook over the radio after learning what happened, and how his usually tan skin was a sickly pale yellow after they all got back. How uncharacteristically absent Gavin had been. Logically, Jeremy knew that not everyone would handle the situation as well as others might. Not everyone can look at the alive and well Ryan and let themselves move on. Some people still need time. And apparently that was Gavin.

It had been a few weeks now, since the heist.

Ryan was healing and going through physical therapy with Jack, though he insisted that he was fine. The wound itself was still present and even the collected Ryan couldn’t help but let out a groan when his abdomen would stretch, pulling the scabbed over bullet wound taut. Jack, screaming, would berate him endlessly about being more careful and not straining himself, much to the chagrin of the assassin himself.

And still Gavin didn’t make himself known.

_j.d_

_Hey, Michael._

_m.j_

_‘sup_

_j.d_

_What’s wrong with Gavin?_

_m.j_

_You mean, apart from the obvious?_

_j.d_

_Michael._

_m.j_

_I don’t know, dude. You think he talks to me?_

_j.d_

_If he was gonna talk to any of us, it’d be you. You’re his best friend, after all._

_m.j_

_He tell you that?_

_j.d_

_Michael._

_m.j_

_He’s just being a baby. He thinks he’s the only one who’s hurting right now? He didn’t even see V get shot. I was right next to him. I saw the whole thing. And I’m fine._

_j.d_

_This is about Ryan? I never got the impression they were close._

_m.j_

_They were kinda close. I think Gavin thinks they’re closer than they are. Ryan hated him._

_j.d_

_Not anymore though._

_m.j_

_No._

_j.d_

_...you know a lot of you guys’ problems would just be solved if you talked to each other._

_m.j_

_Why don’t YOU talk to Gavin then? Talk about your feelings over some Chinese food and paint each other’s nails. When he’s stopped being dramatic, then I’ll talk to him._

Jeremy stared at his phone, raising an eyebrow at Michael’s passive aggressive messages. Although his last text had been sarcastic, visiting Gavin didn’t seem like that bad of an idea. Gavin’s apartment was just above Jeremy’s so they were practically neighbours. That was a good enough excuse to go invade his privacy… right? Jeremy sat up in his bed and stretched, scratching at the hair on his belly absentmindedly. It was time to enter the dragon’s den.

Gavin’s apartment, unlike everyone else's, had been completely refurbished. No kitchen, no living room, instead the walls had been knocked down to create one large open space with floor to ceiling glass windows on the outward walls, letting the sun’s natural light filter in. The whole apartment was chic and minimalistic, much like how the rest of the building was furnished. A colour palette of white, cream and black providing a simplistic elegance to the room. That being said, it wasn’t very tidy.

Strung haphazardly about on every available surface were miscellaneous home gadgets and every day tech pulled apart and surgically dismantled, wires spilling out almost grotesquely with a unnerving similarity to human entrails. Jeremy found himself wincing at the mechanical carnage and wondered what in the _hell_ Gavin had been doing to leave such a mess behind. Padding further into the apartment, Jeremy could hear the quiet synth beats of 80’s music coming from a room in the far corner. He walked closer and could hear the sound of Gavin humming along to the music.

Jeremy pushed his shoulder up against the door to open it and saw a small, humble bedroom, Gavin sat crossed legged on the bed, leaning over a strange device that he was working away at with a small set of tools laid next to him. The room itself was somehow even messier than the living space had been, all the scraps he had torn from the empty shells outside had accumulated in here, scattered around him in an somewhat organised mess. Gavin kept his head down, not acknowledging Jeremy’s arrival.

The shorter man shuffled uncomfortably by the door, “Hey, Gav.”

“What’s broken? Is it your toaster? I can’t fix your toaster, Jeremy, I’m busy. Make Matt do it.” Gavin droned unimpressed, still not looking up at him, but his back tensing.

Jeremy frowned, his eyebrows squeezing together, “Wha-? No. My toaster isn’t broken.”

“Well, if your toilet’s broken, that’s not really in my job description to fix.”

“Nothing’s broken!”

Gavin let out a deep annoyed sigh, “Then _why_ are you here?”

Jeremy shrugged his shoulders, suddenly feeling extremely out of his depth. “I don’t know.” He struggled for the right thing to say, hands sweating. “I, uh, miss you…?”

The man stopped and finally looked up at Jeremy, only to give him the most repulsed look Jeremy had ever seen on another human being. “You _what._ ”

“Well, you know,” Jeremy started, lifting a hand up to scratch at the back of his head nervously, looking away from Gavin’s eyes, “We haven’t seen you around for a while and I was wondering how you were. Michael was worried about you.”

At the mention of Michael the intensity of Gavin’s glare softened, but he quickly looked away and went back to his work, eyebrows low, “If Michael was worried _he_ would be here. Not you. What do you really want.”

Jeremy carefully made his way over to Gavin’s bed, stepping over the scattered wires and tech slowly, as to not break anything, “I just noticed I hadn’t seen you around since the heist-” he sat down next to Gavin, “And I wanted to see how you were… handling everything.”

Gavin hunched over his work even more, avoiding eye contact. He didn’t say anything for a moment and Jeremy felt his brow start to sweat. He didn’t know what it was about talking to Gavin that made him so nervous but he felt like he was an inch tall in his presence and it set off all of his defences. Gavin continued to work on his gadget, picking up a small screwdriver and tightening a loose screw, “I’m not-” Gavin started, voice strained and uncomfortable. “I’m not avoiding anyone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh and scrunched up his face, a hand coming up to rub at his temples, “This is stupid- Why am I even _trying_ to talk to you about this.” Gavin laid back on his bed, flopping back and letting his arms rest outwards, the gadget dropping into his lap. “It just… It felt too similar to before- We can’t handle that again. _I_ can’t handle that again-” He cut himself off with an angry groan, burying his face into his hands and letting out muffled yells.

Without a second thought, Jeremy shuffled around and laid on his back next to Gavin, staring at the ceiling blankly. Gavin was still groaning next to him but quieter now, annoyed with himself. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that.” Jeremy told him, and Gavin went silent next to him, “Whenever someone in my family died- I never really knew them. We were never close. I have no idea what it’s like to have someone you’re so close to hurt that badly, or for them to die too soon.”

Gavin moved his hands away from his face and turned to face Jeremy, his eyes watery and wide from shock, “Jeremy?”

“I don’t know what you’re going through. I don’t know your pain. You and the others… you’re already so close and I’m just not there yet. Almost losing Ryan… especially after Ray- I can see your pain.” He thought back to the already furnished and empty sixth apartment, and the way Ray’s name was etched out of the label next to the button in the elevator. How everyone flinches at the thought of him. How protective they are of their own. “Ray’s ghost is everywhere, even if he hasn’t been around for years. He helped form the Fakes and make them into what they are now.  Without him, they’re left floating, searching for an anchor.” Jeremy brought his hands up to his stomach and rung him hands together, “I don’t know what he meant to you. I never knew him. But, I hope that I can help you, that I can be one of you guys. That I can be your brother. That I can _be_ that anchor, and help you find solid ground again.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

Gavin turned on his side, fully facing Jeremy now. Jeremy did the same and the two of them shared their intimate space. Gavin sighed gently, his eyes downcast, “I never wanted to worry everyone. It just felt too- It was too much for me. It was so _familiar_ and seeing Ryan alive and well- It was too much. I’m-” he stuttered, mouth clamping shut. He breathed in sharply but tried to control himself, letting out a smoother, deeper breath. He relaxed slightly, and lifted up his hand to take one of Jeremy’s hands. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“It feels so wrong, to hurt so much, to _ache_ and to cry and to move on. To move on after that… after everything. It hurts. It’s too hard. Every time I think I’m over it, something happens and I’m back where I was, all those years ago. I see a picture of him, he’s mentioned in a news article, you join us, Ryan gets shot-” Gavin let out a shudder, “It all takes me back. I just want to be able to live without constantly getting dragged back.”

“Moving on isn’t pushing those feelings away, Gavin.” Jeremy said, gently, stroking a thumb over his knuckles, “It’s in acceptance that we learn and grow.”

Gavin shivered and curled up slightly, and Jeremy shifted his hand so that he had a tighter grip on Gavin’s hand. The thinner man let out a small sob and let himself cry in the comfort of his new friend’s arms. The road was long and weary but, if he let others in, at least he wouldn’t be doing it alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, hello my old friend! This chapter is very much the reaction to the previous chapter's action with some much needed communication. Ain't got no miscommunication in MY fic, I wont allow it. Anyhoo, enjoy. Sorry for scaring y'all over Ryan's safety. He's good and he's under the careful watch over Mama Bird Jack! The next chapter's a good'un, see you there!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for graphic depictions of a panic attack for this chapter

_ “It all goes away. Eventually, everything goes away.”  _ _   
_ **_― Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love_ **

* * *

His schedule with the Fakes had become stagnant in the wake of their heist. The money stolen had been shared out, and Jeremy was suddenly fighting a constant urge to cave and buy a whole lot of fast food. The others, used to their earnings at this point, spent it on something frivolous or saved it for an emergency. Jeremy noticed that Gavin was walking around with a new pair of golden sunglasses hanging in the dip of his shirts, and his hair had been lightened; more of a dirty blonde than his natural sandy brown.

And that was his day. Geoff had no big heists planned, and they needed to let the wave of media interest of the last one simmer down before going out, anyway. There was still no update on the Vagabond’s condition and some people were celebrating his death prematurely. Most people were still struck by the image of a new Fake, fighting alongside the others.

Jeremy checked the news and the forums frequently, to see if they had unmasked him yet (A mask… Why didn’t he wear a mask?). The closest anyone had gotten was to connect Rimmy Tim’s appearance with a  _ disappearance  _ from other crime syndicates. Though they only looked through local crime circles, and that was their mistake. The heat on them had cooled a little though, with other crimes happening daily, their heist was put to the side and the mysteries surrounding it shelved with it.

So his day was pretty, well, boring. Sure he had full opportunity to do whatever he wanted inside of the building but he missed being able to go out and enjoy the city. He missed getting takeout and going to his sports bar. Jeremy was starting to wonder if he would be happy in any part of his life. He wasn’t happy in Boston, he wasn’t happy when he first got to the city and now he wasn’t happy with the Fakes.

“So, what? You feel trapped?” Michael asked. 

They were in Michael’s apartment, during one of the quietest days yet. Geoff was out doing business stuff, disappearing like a ghost to do… whatever it is that kingpins do. Gavin had holed himself up in his room, working on a new piece of equipment and would only come down once every night to stretch out his stick thin limbs and then return to his lair. 

Ryan was still in recovery, though he was getting better. Gunshot wounds didn’t heal overnight and Ryan was making it worse by avoiding using his crutches and actually  _ resting.  _ Jack would chastise him daily about physical therapy and not straining himself, but Ryan rarely listened. Though progress could be seen, he could now walk freely (granted, very slowly and carefully) without his crutches, and he barely even flinched in pain when he moved anymore. 

Jeremy was currently sat, upside down, on Michael’s large leather couch, his legs laid along the back and head dangling off of the end. Michael stood a ways away from him, throwing a tennis ball against the large glass windows, and catching it when it returned to him.

“Not really, because I know I’m not trapped.” Jeremy mused, mouth pouted and eyebrows scrunched together in thought, “It’s more like. I just need air, y’know? Just need to walk around and  _ breathe. _ ”

“Well, dude. You can go for a walk, if you really want to. LIke you said, you aren’t trapped here. You could even take one of our cars and just drive around the city, let your hair down.” Michael told him, fingers narrowly missing the returning tennis ball. He sighed and wandered over to where it had landed behind him. “There’s no rules saying you can’t.”

“Geoff said to stay here until the heat from the cops dies down.”

“Sure, for us. But you weren’t at the heist remember?  _ Rimmy Tim  _ was. You were in disguise, you could easily go out and have no one think twice about you.” Michael grinned cheekily at him.  “If you do decide to go out, can you get some pizza from  _ Pizzanista _ ? Just say it’s for the Fakes and they’ll know where to take it. They love us there.”

Jeremy gave him a look, “...Alright.” 

He would ask about that story later.

A few hours later, after he left Michael’s apartment and found himself, once again wandering the halls of the building, he stopped and made the decision there and then to leave for a few hours. Because people do that. Regular people, human people. They go out and enjoy their days like it’s normal, like they aren’t highly wanted criminals. Hm. He pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text to Michael letting him know he was off out (Michael’s response was a single thumbs up emoji) and head down to street level, making his way out of the building and into the city.

As he walked he saw countless newspapers which had his-  _ Rimmy’s  _ face plastered onto the front pages. Large, accusatory text demanding to know who he was printed for all to see. He saw two teenage girls sharing a newspaper, reading it together and discussing it excitedly, wondering who he could be. He wondered if this was how Ryan felt for all these years, it probably freaked him out too. The feeling of wanting to stay hidden when everyone was looking at you… it was weird.

He avoided the neighbouring police station and took a bus out to his old neighbourhood and they drove past the small street that led to his old job, as a barista and -- God, didn’t that feel like years ago? In reality it had only been a few months but everything had happened so fast that it almost seemed like another lifetime. It seemed strange now, that he had even had a life before the Fakes in the City, that he had had friends stability. More or less. His mind flickered back to the man, that nameless man, he had shared his feelings with at the bar. The man with a terrible home life, living on the edge of divorce with his wife, with kids who hated him. How tired he seemed from his night shifts, how he never judged or particularly cared about who Jeremy was and wasn’t, how he let Jeremy be Jeremy. 

He made his way off of the bus and looked around at his surroundings, judging where he was. He realised, with some glee, that he was close to where the bar was, only a few streets away. Jeremy quickened his pace and all but ran to the bar, excitement taking over.

Jeremy burst through the doors, eliciting some disgruntled comments from the patrons inside and everyone looked towards him. He self consciously straightened up and cleared his throat. Nodding to a few of the people he recognised, he made his way over to his seat by the bar. The place hadn’t changed at all in the time he had been away from it, he didn’t think it had changed in at least three decades. There was still the same old-timer working behind the bar, talking with the same old regulars. It was perfect. As he walked, a few people turned around and recognised him but most minded their own business and continued to watch whatever game was playing on the TV. He took his usual seat and the bartender looked over to him, nodding in recognition at him but not sharing any questions he had about Jeremy’s absence \-  it wasn’t his business after all. Jeremy smiled to himself, content in this downtrodden hole in the wall bar filled with men twice his age and older.

There was a poignant absence by his side, and he furrowed his eyebrows. In all the times he had come he, the man had never been a no-show. He looked around, wondering if the man who he had gotten friendly with at this bar was around. He couldn’t see him, but he could of been in the men’s room. Jeremy looked at the television and saw that it was the Devil’s again, the man’s least favourite team, so maybe he wasn’t here because they were playing. The bartender saw him looking around and raised an eyebrow, “Who you looking for, kid?”

Jeremy bit his tongue on the ‘kid’ comment, feeling older every day with his new career choice , but he let it slide, “Uh, isn’t there usually a regular who sits on the bar too? I’ve talked to him a few times. Middle aged? Balding?” As he spoke the bartender’s jaw clenched and the bar fell silent, staring at him. 

“Why are you asking about Jenson?” an older man inquired behind him, “You a cop? We’ve dealt with them enough for a lifetime past few days.”

Jeremy looked around the room in confusion, not quite understanding, “Cops? Why were the cops here?” 

“Like you don’t know.”

“I  _ don’t  _ know! I’ve been outta town for a while, family stuff.” Jeremy stressed.

The bartender sighed, suddenly looking extremely tired, “He’s dead. The Fakes had a heist at the bank where he was working on the night shift. The Vagabond took him out.”

Deep, heavy guilt settled like a weight in his stomach.

“Oh.”

Jeremy had felt guilty before. He had felt guilty when he didn’t give a homeless person his change when they asked. He had felt guilty when he had watched a PSA about people not having enough food while eating his dinner. He had felt guilty when people had relied on him and he hadn’t been there. But he had never felt  _ guilt  _ before. Pure, concentrated guilt that ate away at his heart and his insides and made him feel hollow. He felt sick, and needed to leave. He made his excuses and stumbled out, feeling like he had just downed sixteen shots of whiskey in three seconds. He pressed himself against the door and heaved, feeling himself clam up and shake. He couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t handle this.  _ He couldn’t handle this.  _

* * *

Back at the Fakes’ den, Ryan, Michael and Gavin were playing a game of cards, with Gavin throwing out fake rules every few minutes to make Michael yell at him. Geoff wasn’t playing, back from his duties, looking out at the City watching the people and the cars whiz by. Jack observed him from where she sat on the couch, ignoring Michael and Gavin’s bickerings. Ryan sat with the two younger men, his own cards splayed out in his hand, looking through them critically.

“ _ Michael,  _ it’s not made up it’s a real rule! Tell him Ryan!”

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“It’s obviously fake, you’re the fucking sorest loser of all time, Gavin!” Michael yelled at him.

“It’s not fake where I come from!” Gavin yelled back, indignantly.

_ “No one else is from fucking England, moron.” _

“Geoff?” Jack asked quietly, standing up to walk over to him, “Are you okay?”

He didn’t reply straight away so Jack stood next to him, joining his watch over the city, she knew he would reply eventually. “Yeah.” He said, almost like an afterthought, “I’m fine just… thinking.”

“Anything bad?” Jack had to ask first.

He didn’t reply immediately again, and she looked down at his hands. Geoff was always so expressive with his hands. Using them to emphasise a story or to help convey what he was thinking and feeling to her, when his words weren’t doing it justice. Right now they were tense, clasped behind his back, one hand circling the other’s wrist, rubbing over the thin skin there. He was nervous about something. He turned to her with a small, boyish grin, nudging her side.

“Mmm. Maybe. I’ll keep you posted.” Geoff seemed to snap out of whatever was occupying his mind and she reluctantly let it go. He would tell her when he was ready. Geoff turned to face the others and rubbed his hands together, “Where’s Jeremy with the food? I’m starving.”

Jack looked at Geoff for a second wanting to ask him what he was thinking about so intensely but knew it would get her nowhere, so she moved on with him, “Not sure, when did Jeremy leave Michael?”

Michael looked up, face still red from yelling at Gavin and tilted his head, “Uh, maybe three hours ago now?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” Jack quipped automatically.

“Telling you, asshole.” Michael said, with no real fire behind it.

“What did he say he was doing in the city anyway?” Ryan, who had been quiet until now, asked while also placing down his last card. It won him the game. Gavin threw his arms in the air in frustration and slapped a twenty onto the table which Ryan happily scooped up and put into his pocket.

“He said he just wanted to get out, had a bit of cabin fever.” Michael shrugged.

“Did he mention anywhere specific he wanted to go?” Jack asked.

“No, just that he wanted the wander.”

Jack furrowed her eyebrows, “No way he’s wandering around with no purpose for three hours.”

“You think he’s in trouble?” Michael asked, face suddenly becoming serious. Gavin watched from where he sat, his own expression tinged with worry.

Ryan breathed in deeply, “He could be, he is in hiding after all.”

They all looked at each other, the playful mood suddenly gone from the room. Michael shared a look with Ryan and saw the worry in his eyes, no mask to hide his true emotions any more. Gavin let a breath go that he must have been holding for some time, “Do you want me to find him? Does he have his phone on him?” Geoff sat off to the side and ran a hand through his hair tiredly while Gavin pulled out his laptop from his bag that was laying on the table, “If he has his phone then I can easily find him, if not then I’m gonna have to go CCTV hunting like before.”

“No, I’ll phone him first I don’t want to jump to conclusions. He really might be just out enjoying the city.” Geoff told him. He pulled out his phone and brought up Jeremy’s number to call him, while Gavin opened his laptop anyway just in case he would need it. 

Jack clenched her jaw and watched as Gavin’s fingers hovered over the keys of his laptop, itching to go but not wanting to do so until he got the all clear from Geoff. Muffled talking came from Geoff’s phone followed by the telltale voicemail  _ beep _ , he hung up the phone and shared a look with Jack.

“Nothing?” Jack asked, fiddling with the hem of her summer dress, nervously. 

“Straight to voicemail, his phone’s off.” Geoff groaned and waved at Gavin in a ‘go for it’ manner, Gavin immediately slamming his fingers against the keys aggressively, getting to work. 

“Let’s find our boy.”

* * *

 

He had been in there for hours now. 

As soon as he had left the bar he stumbled for a few minutes, mind running a mile a minute and not focused on anyone around him. At some point he knows he must have walked into someone who was none too pleased about it because he felt something hit his shoulder and then yelling, but none of it was clear. It was like he was underwater, like nothing around him was real, like nothing was tangible. Everything felt distant, fuzzy, and dull. He couldn’t focus on anything but--

_ He’s dead. _

_ \-- _ no. He had to get somewhere. He had to sit down. He had to throw up. He had to-- He had to--

_ The Fake’s had a heist-- _

Into a grey building, rushed questions and raised voices, an arm around his shoulder as he gets led upstairs, into a grey room, to a grey bathroom. He stumbled forwards and towards the toilet, he needed to get away from everyone’s eyes. He needed to breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t--

_ The Vagabond took him out. _

Lurched over the toilet bowl, vision blurred, face sweaty and pale, projectile vomiting away whatever leftovers he had eaten that morning. This was Hell. He was in Hell. He couldn’t breathe, why couldn’t he  _ breathe.  _ Short, sharp breaths, not enough. Not enough oxygen, making him lightheaded. More breaths, pants, his mouth open and tongue out like a dog in summer. Let it be over, let it be over,  _ please.  _ God, his head.  _ God,  _ his head. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, hand clutched to his chest.  _ Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Fuck-- _

Jeremy collapsed to the floor, his entire body cold and sweaty, shaking in the too bright lights. He brought his hands up to his face and cried, heaving at the intensity of it, loud sobs escaping through his fingers. He wanted this to end. He wanted everything to just stop, for once.

_ Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. _

* * *

 

“Okay, his phone’s either off or it’s dead. I can’t get through to him.” Geoff said, voice low and in thought, eyes scanning the stressed faces of his peers.

Gavin looked frustrated and continued to work on his laptop, “That means I can’t track him. I’ll have to use CCTV but it’s going to take a while, especially since I don’t know where he went.”

“Well, maybe start with places he’s most likely to have gone to, was he interested in touristy spots?” Ryan asked the group.

Michael shook his head, “He didn’t seem like he was interested in all that, he just said he wanted to go for a walk.”

“Ryan’s on the right track though, let’s think of the places he would have gone to.” Jack said, “Gavin can check the CCTV there for the last three hours and see if he was there.”

Gavin stared at him, “Do you know how long that would take?”

Jack slumped down onto the sofa and ran a hand through her hair in annoyance, “Well, do you have any better ideas?”

“Yes, actually.” Gavin snipped and turned his laptop to the group. On his screen was a birdseye view of the city with locations marked all over the map all in different sizes and colours. “I compiled a list of all the places that you guys frequent when you’re not here-- Before you get all up in arms over me  _ stalking  _ you, I wasn’t stalking. I was building up a database of knowledge that I could use against, or for, you at any time.”

They stared at him.

“You  _ what?!”  _ Ryan bellowed, making Gavin flinch backwards.

“You’ve been spying on us?!” Michael yelled in tandem, standing up to move away from Gavin. 

“Only for my own curiosity!” Gavin insisted, “I wasn’t  _ really  _ going to do anything with it!”

_ “That’s besides the point!”  _ Ryan screamed at him, “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is to have that information just…  _ out there?!” _

“It’s not ‘out there’ it’s in a database of my own design that’s 100% hack proof! Trust me, I’ve tried!”

“That’s completely irresponsible, Gavin!”

“Oh, sorry,  _ Ryan!  _ Sorry I was too busy saving your arses every heist and every god damned day to care about your  _ privacy,  _ like it’s anything good. Your life is a damn snore, Rye. Hate to break it to you. Talking of your name, sorry I spoiled the reveal for myself but I’ve known who you are for  _ years.  _ Sorry about that,  _ James. _ ” Gavin taunted.

Ryan growled at him and lunged forwards, flinging Gavin’s laptop to the side and pinning Gavin down, fingers digging into the man’s neck, Gavin choked and wheezed under his hands.  _ “Do you have any idea… what you could have done?!” _

Gavin’s eyes rolled backwards and his face went red, “S-sure, kill me.” he sputtered, “At w-what point do you stop believing you’re doing this for  _ their safety _ \--” He gurgled as Ryan’s grip tightened, his face going blue.

Michael jammed himself in between them, pushing Ryan away and holding them apart, slapping an arm across Ryan’s chest to stop him from going any further, “Hey,  _ assholes  _ let’s keep our fucking heads in the game and find Jeremy, okay? Can you do that? Or are your dicks too hard that you can’t focus on anything else?”

“That’s not the  _ point,  _ Michael!” Ryan started, “The point is--”

_ “The point is _ Jeremy is out there somewhere and we don’t know what’s going on with him,” Geoff said calmly, taking in everyone’s high tensions. He looked down at Ryan’s waist and at the fresh blood that was seeping into his bandages and through to the other side, “You are in no condition to get this worked up, especially not over Gavin.”

“But, Geoff--!”

“ _ Ryan.  _ Take a seat, have a break. We can only worry about one Fake at a time.” Geoff ordered, and gestured to Jack to help with his freshly opened wound, “One Fake shot and another Fake M.I.A., what a time to be alive, eh Michael?”

Michael looked around at everyone’s stressed out demeanour, and looked grimly at Geoff, “You said it, baby.”

“Right, Gavin. Get your stalker dick to work and use it to find Jeremy. Get his scent or something. Jack stay with Ryan, make sure he doesn’t open that wound again, we have no use for a dead Vagabond. Michael, with me.” Geoff said, grabbing his jacket and throwing it on, Michael doing the same and following his lead out of the room, sending a disgusted look Gavin’s way as he did.

“It’s not- It’s not a stalker thing!” Gavin yelled after them, “It was a legitimate project!”

* * *

He was so tired. His head was heavy on his arm, the limb numb from the lack of blood passing through it. He had thrown up, again, only after Jeremy had forced himself to but the sheer relief he had felt afterwards made the disgusting act worth it. He had found his breath, eventually. He was able to calm himself down into the state he was in now, which was curled up on the floor of a stranger’s bathroom, dry vomit and saliva clinging to his skin and clothes.

Jeremy knew he would have to stand up eventually, that realistically he wouldn’t be allowed to stay in this public bathroom and he wouldn’t be allowed to not explain what had happened to the guys. He didn’t know how long he had been gone but they must have realised something was wrong by this point. He knew they would be worried, that was who they are. They care about their own, but-

_ The Vagabond took him out. _

He squeezed his eyes shut, fresh tears already welling. He didn’t think he was ready to go just yet. He couldn’t face the Vagabond just yet.

* * *

 

“Any luck?” Geoff asked Gavin through their comms, he and Michael had taken one of the more ‘normal’ cars that they owned, a simple soccer mom type six seater but with blackout windows and enough tech to warrant some sort of warning. It wasn’t fashionable or particularly cool, but it was what they needed.

_ “None yet, I can’t seem to find him anywhere he’s been before. He isn’t at his old apartment, he isn’t at his old job, he isn’t at that crappy bar he liked to go to all the time-”  _ Gavin sighed in frustration, “ _ where the hell is he?” _

“Well was he there at any point during the day? He could have popped in to say hi to some friends.” Michael suggested.

_ “Already ahead of you, I have my software searching through the footage of the day, if there’s anything that comes up in those three places it’ll let me know.” _

Geoff nodded, “Good work, Gavin. Keep it up. Over and out.”

_ “Over and out to you too, boss.” _

“Do you really think he’s in trouble?” Michael asked Geoff quietly, looking out of the passenger’s seat window, hoping that he would just see Jeremy walking down the street somewhere and everything would be fine. He and Jeremy hadn’t known each other long, but they had already gotten close. Jeremy was a few years younger than Gavin and himself and it was nice to have another ‘lad’ (as Gavin would say) around, especially after… everything. 

Geoff looked over to him and raised an eyebrow, “Realistically? No. I think he’s fine, but it can’t help to just make sure.” he straightened his spine and looked ahead of him at the traffic, “I just hope that wherever he is, we get to him first.”

Michael sighed and sunk deeper into the plush leather seat, resting his head on the back, “I can’t help but think that this was all my fault.”

“Jeremy going missing?” Geoff asked.

“No, just. All of it. He goes to me for advice, like I know everything when most days I just get by on winging it. I’m not a very good mentor.” Michael mused, voice uncharacteristically low.

Geoff watched him through his peripheral vision and hummed thoughtfully, “Personally. I think you’re doing just fine. It’s been a while since we’ve had a new guy and you were too young to be a leader then. But you’re older now, you’ve seen more. I think you’re more of a leader than you realise.”

Michael sighed, ‘Well, I’m not a very  _ good  _ leader then.”

“It’ll come to you, like anything. Gavin and Jeremy… they need you to help them through this.” Geoff let out a bark of laughter and his eyes lit up, “Remember when Gavin first arrived, fresh off the English countryside, avoiding InterPol like it was the plague?”

“God, yeah.” Michael laughed with him, “He was so thin and tiny.”

“He’s  _ still _ thin and tiny.’ Geoff pointed out.

Michael snorted, “Sure but at least he actually talks to people now.”

“At least we can  _ understand  _ him now!”

“First few months he would only talk to you, remember? Wouldn’t even make eye contact with Jack or I.”

Geoff grinned at the memory fondly, “And now look at you, two peas in a pod, Michael and Gavin, Jones and Free, the dynamite duo!”

Michael smiled to himself, lightly, “Yeah. I guess we are kind of a team, huh?”

“You were the one to help him out of his shell you know.” Geoff told him, as if it was fact, “He wouldn’t be who he is today without you.”

“You’re blaming me for that mess?” Michael asked, mock offended.

Geoff took one hand off of the wheel to punch Michael in the arm, and Michael swore at him, “Don’t be an ass. Gavin’s… Gavin. He was always like that under the surface, it’s why he escaped to the US in the first place. You just allowed him to be that way all the time.”

“ _ Fuck.”  _ Michael groaned, “So, it  _ is  _ my fault. My own creation. I created a monster. I Frankenstein-ed it.”

“You  _ released  _ the monster.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to”

They laughed comfortably and Geoff rubbed Michael’s arm where he had punched it, and Michael smiled slightly at him. He looked out of the window again, noting that the sun had started to go down. He hoped Jeremy wasn’t out in the cold somewhere.

His smile faded and he felt his heart sink. It felt wrong to be laughing like this when Jeremy was still out there, missing. “We should send out the B team, so we can cover more ground.”

Geoff raised his eyebrows at the suggestion but after a moment, smiled and reached for the radio, “Spoken like a true leader.”

Michael’s cheeks flushed red, and his chest puffed out proudly. He wasn’t the best leader, but he was getting there.

* * *

 

_ “Timmy?”  _

Jeremy lifted his head and blinked, he must have passed out at some point. He felt disgusting. His mouth was dry. His eyes were dry. He cleared his throat, releasing a large ball of phlegm from his throat and into the toilet bowl. Disgusting. There was knocking on the door of the toilet, and with a startling moment of clarity, he realised that he had no idea where he was. Falling backwards onto his ass he looked around the small bathroom, as if seeing it for the first time. It was large, with a combination bath and shower to one side and a lavish looking toilet (which was unfortunately covered in Jeremy’s spittle and vomit) in the center, pressed against the back wall. He also noticed, with confusion, that there was pink furnishings  _ everywhere.  _ Horrid looking hot pink pillows, photo frames and candles. Pink incense sticks burning on the window sill. It was so gaudy and  _ loud _ that it made Jeremy flinch. And yet, it all looked so familiar. Had he…  _ been  _ here before? 

More knocking, heavier this time.

_ “Timmy? Sweets, are you feelin’ any better?” _

_...Timmy...? _

_ Mrs Jackson?! _

He stumbled into standing and wrenched the door open, the old women behind it jumping back in shock. The old woman- Mrs Jackson stared at him with wide, wet eyes and he couldn’t help but gape. How did he..?

“Bwuh?” he mumbled, unhelpfully.

“Oh sweets,” she whimpered, voice thick with emotion, “Oh hon. What  _ happened? _ ”

“How did I…” he asked, trailing off as he looked around the room. They were in her bedroom, one he had practically rebuilt top to bottom in his short time living in this building. The floors were still half finished, Jeremy having been caught up in the tornado of the Fakes before he could finish them. “You never finished the floors.” he said, lamely.

Mrs Jackson squinted, confused but then turned around to see what he was looking at, and she darted her eyes down to her slippers, embarrassed. “Well, who would I have gotten to finish it? You know I couldn’ta done it myself.”

“But there are  _ bare floorboards  _ here, you could have stood on a nail? Or tripped on something. It’s dangerous.” He said, almost instinctively.

A fire sparked in her eyes and she placed her hand on her hip, “Don’t you sass me, young’un. If anything I should be the one wonderin’ about  _ your  _ health. What with you disappearin’ like that! And then these- these  _ men  _ come in? And break into your room, steal your belongin’s?” she huffed at looked at him with scared eyes, “What  _ happened _ to you Timmy?”

_ Timmy _ . His alias. He had forgotten how scared he was to say his real name, to have people know him. And again with Rimmy Tim, a whole personality and character designed to keep people at bay.

Somewhere in his mind, he wondered what is was about the name Tim that he kept choosing it.

_ The Fakes had a heist-- _

He clenched his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe, “I--”

Jeremy opened his eyes, and she was still there waiting for him. An island in an endless sea, sturdy and still. He swallowed. “I had some family stuff--” More lies. More lies, lies, lies. 

“Family stuff?” she repeated, tone unconvinced. How is she only now able to see his lies, when he’s been lying to her from the moment they met.

They locked eyes and he vaguely remembered her fear when he had first asked about the Fakes, the way her face had gone taut and sollem. How she had warned him. 

_ Mrs Jackson, I’m a Fake now and my new friend killed my old friend and I don’t know how to handle it. _

Sure, if he wanted her to have a heart attack, he’d tell the truth.

He looked at her and searched for what to say, mouth gaping and hands clenched by his side. Sensing he was having difficulties she sighed and reached out a hand to him leading him to her couch to sit down. “I’m not Timmy.” he said, finally, quietly speaking to the floor, unable to look directly at her.

“No shit, honey.” she said lightly, “You aren’t very subtle.”

“You knew?”

“I knew you were lying to me, but I didn’t care.” she admitted, running a hand along his back, “What’s your actual name?”

“My name…?” he choked out a laugh and said almost like an apology, “My name’s Jeremy Dooley, youngest of the Dooley Clan of Boston. I ran away and ended up here, with you.”

There was a moment of silence between the two and the soothing hand on his back stilled for a moment. A second passed like a year, silence stretching like horizons as they sat. Until, finally, she continued to rub his back. A simple act of acceptance, to show she didn’t care who he was. He appreciated it, feeling a weight lift off of his shoulders.

“You a runaway too, huh? I guess we outsiders really do stick together like glue.” Her voice cracked as she spoke, but she ignored it, “Anything else you wanna drop on me?”

_ I’m a Fake. _

“No--”

_ I killed a man without thinking. _

“I--”

_ I don’t know what I’m doing here. _

He groaned and grabbed a pink fluffy pillow to his side, slamming his face into it and screaming in frustration. Mrs Jackson, to her credit, didn’t even flinch. “Just let it out, hon. We all got demons that cling on sometimes, just gotta shake ‘em off is all.”

Jeremy whined childishly into the pillow, like he had just been told he had to get up to go to school. She rolled her eyes at his antics. He lifted his face out of the pillow and slumped across her lap, “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to handle the life I made for myself. Like, I don’t know if everything I’ve done in the wake of everything was the right choice. Because it seems like, with every new step someone gets hurts because of me. My family, my friends, practical strangers- Am I cursed?”

“Curses aren’t real, hon. You just got a string of bad luck.”

“I don’t know.” he sighed and closed his eyes, “It feels like I can’t find my footing anywhere. Like I’m floating. But the floor falls apart before I can land, and I can’t get enough force to send me back up so instead I fall, and I crumble with the floor. Down into the ground. Leaving my family, I didn’t have a plan. I come here and suddenly it seems like everything’s gonna be fine. I have a job and friends and  _ stability.  _ Then that gets taken away from me, and I move into a new life. Yet, even then, the moment I start feeling safe there, it gets ripped away from me. I’m just. I’m  _ tired _ of not having something to rely on. Of knowing that if my life turns to utter  _ shit  _ that I don’t have anyone or anything that can catch me if I fall. And every new thing that happens sends me hurtling faster and faster towards the ground. I’m just waiting for the day when I hit the ground and either it’ll kill me or… or I’ll--”

“Be caught?”

Jeremy lowered his eyes and nodded, croaking out a small noise of agreement. He sat up slowly and rubbed at his eyes, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- come here.” 

There was a buzz at Mrs Jackson’s door and she furrowed her eyebrows, “Gimmie a sec, sweets.”

She walked out of the room and left him alone to his thoughts.

Jeremy looked around the bedroom and saw a small photo frame on her bedside table, glinting at him from where it sat. Curious, and with nothing better to do, he walked over and picked it up. He felt the corners of his mouth curl up into a smile as he realised it was a photo of Mrs Jackson and himself from the last few days of him living there. Their faces were close together and they were beaming. It had been a selfie, Jeremy showing her how to use the front camera on her phone. She hadn’t gotten it at first but after a few attempts had warmed up to the idea and started showing that million dollar smile that had apparently won her the hearts of many men when she was younger. He jolted when he heard a commotion downstairs and carefully put the photo frame down, walking out of the room and out of Mrs Jackson’s apartment completely.

_ “You don’t have permission to be swaggerin’ into my building like that!” _

_ “Ma’am, please. We’re just looking for our friend.”  _ Jeremy didn’t recognise that voice, and his back immediately tensed.

_ “You lot are always walkin’ around thinkin’ everythin’ is yours, well let me tell you, sonny! I own this buildin’! I got a permit and everythin’! What do you have? A fancy suit?” _

A suit…? Geoff?

Jeremy walked out of the apartment and walked down the stairs slowly, halting when he saw who was getting the brunt of Mrs Jackson’s anger. Two complete strangers were stood at the door. Both were equally tall and looked vaguely similar. They had the same hair style and they held themselves with the same sense of importance. The one on the right wore a two piece suit, with a white shirt and black waistcoat, pressed black trousers completed the look. He had a long, pale face and jet black hair, with narrow brown eyes. The one on the left was darker in skin tone and wore significantly less fancy clothes than his partner, instead opting for jeans, a white shirt and a red jacket with white stripes on the arms. His face was rounder with bright, oval eyes. 

The one in the suit noticed him coming down the stairs and nodded at him, “Jeremy. Finally, I was starting to wonder if we had gotten the wrong information.”

Jeremy looked at the stranger, a little sick of people knowing who he was long before he knew them, “Don’t sound so excited.”

“Oh! No, I am! Well, no. I’m not  _ excited.  _ That would be weird.” The man cleared his throat and reached out a hand to him, “I’m Trevor Collins and this is Alfredo Diaz,” he gestured to the man in the red jacket next to him, “We work for your boss."

“My boss? Geoff?” Jeremy asked, confused. 

Trevor pulled back his hand cleared his throat, awkward. Alfredo spoke up for the first time and smiled at Jeremy, “I mean, technically, we have a different boss and Geoff is the Big Boss, y’know?"

“No…?”

Trevor cleared his throat and gestured to Mrs Jackson, “We have a lot to discuss away from um- prying eyes.” 

Ignoring Trevor’s attempt to end to conversation, Alfredo beamed at them and kept talking, “Think of us like the behind the scenes guys. You do the cool shit, we do the paperwork and help out when they need extra hands. Like right now.” Alfredo cleared up for him.

“You can call us the B Team, because... that’s our name.” Trevor trailed off and laughed nervously.

“Yeah! Like how you guys are the Fa-” Alfredo started, but was cut off by a sharp jab in the ribs from Trevor.

“Anyway-” Trevor cleared his throat again, “You’re missing. Well, you’re not ‘cause you’re right in front of me. But you were. And the guys were looking for you. You, uh, weren’t answering your phone.”

“I...left it on my nightstand.” Jeremy said, still slightly unsure of the Shining Twins in front of him.

“Oh! Well, that explains it!” Trevor laughed and wiped his brow as if to wipe away the sweat there, “I’m glad that’s sorted!” He pulled out his phone and sent off a text to Geoff and the others, Jeremy assumed. 

Jeremy continued to watch him, almost hypnotised by the lanky man’s nervous ticks and dark boyish features, “How comes I’ve never met you before?”

Trevor looked up from his phone and shrugged, “We work in different areas. You’re in front of the cameras, we’re behind them.”

“‘We’?” Jeremy asked.

“The people who do all the stuff you guys can’t be fucked to.” Alfredo laughed to himself and shrugged, “It’s not a bad gig if you’re camera shy.  Come on, let’s head to base.”

“Right.” Jeremy said, doubtfully. Still, if these men  _ were  _ working with Geoff then Jeremy supposed he could trust them. He turned regretfully to a confused Mrs Jackson and pulled her in for a big hug, wrapping his thick arms around her thin frame and hooking his chin over her shoulder, “I have to go, they’re friends of mine.”

Mrs Jackson cast a disbelieving look over Jeremy’s shoulder at the two visibly uncomfortable men, and pulled away from the hug, “You can always stay, hon. Your old room is still there for you, if you ever need it.”

He smiled gratefully at her and kissed her cheek, “I know, but you don’t have to wait for me. I’m fine.” He paused and decided to be honest with her for the first time, “I’ll  _ be  _ fine.”

She still seemed unconvinced but a cough from Trevor told him they they really needed to get going. Jeremy turned and saw the man gesture to his watch poignantly and Jeremy gave him a tired look. Alfredo, the warmer of the two, smiled apologetically at Mrs Jackson, “We’ll bring him back in one piece, ma’am.”

The two of them moved forward in sync with the other, each appearing on either side of Jeremy, placing a firm hand on his back to push him towards the door. Jeremy faltered at their force but made sure to turn around and give Mrs Jackson a wave before he was led out of the building and into their large, sleek car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really a part 1 of 2 since the original chapter had to be split in two, since it got so long. I think the original chapter 7 got to around 15k. So think of this as Chapter 7a. Angst, angst and more angst. I really am very mean to Jeremy. After I finish I should write a one shot of Jeremy on vacation, to give him time to relax. The poor thing. And the return of Mrs Jackson! I love her a lot, she's everything I want to be when I'm old. Notice the lack of her ever present cigarette in this chapter. Subtle meaning or a fluke I just noticed? You decide! Next chapter very soon, probably the weekend!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued trigger warnings from the previous chapter, panic attacks/depressive states etc.

_“We don't unfold ourselves like pieces of paper for everyone to see: that's not how humans work. There are always parts of us we shut away or hide. Bits of ourselves we can't touch because they're too precious and buried too deep. Fragments of truth we barely admit to ourselves. Because sometimes editing our own story is the only way to get through it.”_

― **Holly Smale, All That Glitters**

* * *

 

Alfredo went behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb and onto the road, sighing in relief.

“If I had known I would be dealing with civilians today, I would have sent out Lindsay.” Trevor said in the passenger seat, “She’s much better with the whole talking to people thing.”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes at him when they made eye contact in the rear view mirror. “I don’t know, if you’re just nice to people, they tend to be nice back. It’s not too hard.” Alfredo let out a bark of laughter as his partner squirmed.

Ignoring how Trevor squirmed, Jeremy looked out at the City as they passed through his old neighbourhood, “Why’d they send you?” He asked, “I mean, no offence. But it’s not like you would be first on my list.”

“None taken. Ryan’s wounded back at base and Jack’s looking after him, so there was only Geoff and Michael to look for you. So they called in some help.” Alfredo grinned at him in the rear view mirror, “That’s us!”

Jeremy didn’t reply and just watched the world fly by as Alfredo drove through the city, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to his reunion with the Fakes. “When we get there can you tell the guys not to bother me for a bit. I need to…” He looked down at his dirty clothes, “I need to clean up.”

They looked back at him but didn’t say anything, only nodding and not asking questions, which Jeremy was grateful for. He really didn’t need or want that extra attention right now. Eventually they entered the Fakes’ garage and Trevor parked the car into its space. As soon as the car’s engine cut, Jeremy hastily made his way out of the car and towards the elevator, but he stopped to turn around and face Trevor just before he left, “Thanks for uh, you know.”

“Don’t mention it, dude.” Alfredo insisted, hands coming up to wave Jeremy’s thanks away.

Trevor awkwardly saluted him and smiled, “It was our pleasure.”

Jeremy hunched his shoulders and nodded and left the garage, ready to go an curl up into his room.

* * *

 

“The Wonder Twins found him, you were right. He was at his old apartment building.” Ryan read from his phone just as his it bleeped, indicating that another message was coming through, “Geoff and Michael know and they’re on their way back.”

He was laid down on the couch, Jack knelt beside him caring to his freshly reopened wound. She muttered to herself about self care and not being responsible for Ryan’s actions.

Gavin raised an eyebrow at him, “At his apartment building. He was just in paying a visit the whole time. That’s so lackluster.”

Ryan punched Gavin’s arm, making Jack squawk as more blood beaded from his wound at the action, but with no real fury behind it, “It’s better than finding him dead somewhere, Gav.”

Gavin whined childishly, “Yeah but no one is ever anywhere cool. When will the day come where you ask me to find someone and they’re in a secret base or something? Ooh! Or _they’re inside the building._ ”

“You’re an idiot.” Ryan chuckled.

“I just think it’ll be good for our rep, to take on someone cool for once.”

“We do cool things all the time.” Jack mumbled, concentrating, “And we’re still in the papers from our last heist.” Jack pulled back the bandages from Ryan’s wound to inspect it carefully.

Gavin balked at the sight, paling slightly and turned away, miffed.

There was a knock at the door and Trevor and Alfredo walked in, nodding once to each of them in greeting. “Hello, sirs. Ma’am.” They said in unison.

Jack waved distractedly and went back to work.

Gavin grinned from where he sat, “Freydie! Treyco!” he greeted happily. The two factions of the Fakes never really bumped into each other too often but when they did they were always happy to see each other, and reunited like old friends, which at this point, was an apt descriptor.

“Hey, Trevor. How is he?” Ryan asked, smiling at Trevor. He had always liked Trevor, he always just seemed to mind his own business and never question the Fakes’ methods. Which, when Gavin and Michael are headed out of the building with fifteen tons of explosives and a manic look in their eyes, is probably a good thing.

Trevor furrowed his eyebrows, “He seemed pretty run down, he didn’t tell me what had happened and I didn’t ask but I did notice that he was extremely pale and had vomit on his shirt and jeans.”

“Jesus.” Gavin said and looked at Ryan, “Drunk, maybe?”

“You did seem him at that bar.” Ryan noted, looking concerned.

Gavin hummed, “Yeah, but he was in less for less than five minutes, no way he got _that_ drunk in that time, something must of happened.”

Alfredo’s eyebrows clinched together in concerned, “He seemed so exhausted when we saw him, and the way he was so reluctant to leave…”

They all shared a knowing look between them, Geoff needed to know about this. Maybe not the details of what happened to Jeremy today, just the fact that he had something happen at all. A Fake going M.I.A for a few hours is one thing. But for a Fake to come back worse for wear with no answer as to why? He had to know. Trevor sighed, “I’ll let Geoff know,” he pulled out his phone and started composing a text, while doing so he looked at Ryan’s waist, “How’s your, uh--”

“Oh, it’s… healing. It’s fine. Jack did a great job on it.”

Jack looked up at him with a quiet anger, “It would be healing a lot _faster_ if _someone_ stayed _still_.”

Ryan had the decency to look sheepish, looking to the so called Twins (though, they weren’t related in any way) for help, only to get merciless grins in response.

“You’ll get no help from us, buddy. We know better than to cross Jack’s path when she’s like this.” Alfredo told him, a playful look on his face.

“I’m sure you’ll heal up soon,” Trevor told the unmasked Vagabond, “she’s got the healing touch, after all.” Trevor smiled at him and sent off the text to Geoff, his phone making a _swoosh_ sound as he did. He straightened up his back and stretched his arms above his head, his backing popping as he did, “We should get going back upstairs, Geoff wanted us to iron out a few things he’s got his eyes on.”

“Anything for us?” Gavin asked, hopeful.

“Naw, just random questions he has about this and that. We might as well be his human Wikipedia.” Alfredo laughed and shoved his hands into his pockets ready to leave, Trevor following suit. Before they left, Alfredo caught himself at the door and turned back around, “Jeremy didn’t want any company by the way, so I wouldn’t go knocking. Whatever happened, he needs some time to himself.”

Ryan nodded, “Thanks, Trevor.”

The twins gave them identical smiles and headed out into the hallway, leaving Gavin, Jack and Ryan to themselves again. Gavin looked at Ryan and Jack with a raised eyebrow, “What do you think happened?”

“I’m not too sure,” Jack replied, hands stilling for the first time in their conversation. She turned to where the Twins had just been, eyes locked on the door, “I hope nothing bad.”

* * *

 

Turns out, turning off all the lights, closing the curtains, climbing underneath your covers and curling up into a ball doesn’t help you feel less depressed. If anything it makes it worse. The complete absence of sound and light in his room made Jeremy focus more and more on the events of that evening. He felt like a damned baby, overreacting like this. He was a grown man, he had nothing to do with that man's death, he wasn’t even the one to kill him but-

Jeremy sighed and curled up even more, shoving his fists into his eyes as he felt them start to well up again. It was stupid he knew, to get so caught up on this, he barely even knew the guy. He had exchanged a few words to him and talked to him about the game and about his marriage which was supposedly in shambles. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how his family were dealing with all this. At the bank everything had felt fake--Jeremy shuddered at his word choice and scrambled for a different one-- _unreal_ . Like his actions didn’t mean anything. The bullets he carelessly shot into the chests of men were rubber and the money they stole was Monopoly money. Nothing had any weight to it. The realness of it only setting in when The Vagabond was shot and Jeremy had felt emptiness in his chest like never before. When he lifted his gun and shot that security guard, whose hands were shaking and eyes were so, _so_ young-- he had felt empty. Far away. Like his body was working on autopilot.

Why hadn’t he considered how much it would have fucked him up? Maybe his Dad had seen that in him from the moment he was born. _“Don’t put Jeremy in the field.”_ Jeremy could almost hear his father say, _“The kid can’t handle this shit. Keep him at home. Keep him away.”_ He remembered stories of his father’s youth. How he had made his first kill when he was just thirteen, their home had been broken into and he was the only one at home, so he had grabbed his own father’s shotgun off of the wall and fired it at the intruder, killing the guy instantly. He would proudly tell that story at family dinners, along with his first torture, his first robbery and his first time killing a traitor. Dooley men were loud and proud men, but most of all, they were competitive. By the time Jeremy had turned thirteen the only thing he had killed was a rabbit that had made its way into their garden with a rock to the head. When Jeremy had proudly held the dead thing up by it ears, presenting it to his father, he had simply told him that a rabbit wasn’t the same as a person and had sent him away.

Jeremy knew that if his father could see him right now he would call him pathetic and walk away, glad to be away from his mess of a son and Jeremy didn’t blame him. He felt such hot, deep humiliation for the way he had acted earlier, snotty and sweaty on the floor of a fucking pink bathroom, crying his eyes out unable to breathe. He wished that he could go back in time and just slap himself for acting that way. He hated how weak this made him seem. He hated how defenceless this made him seem. He hated himself for ever getting to that point.

_The Vagabond took him out._

He let out a whimper and quietly sobbed into his fists. He just wanted this to be over. He wanted it all to be over.

* * *

 

“Bullshit, let me see him.”

Jack sighed and rubbed her temple, telltale signs of a headache forming there, “You can see him whenever you want, Michael. No one’s forcing to to stay here.”

“He said he doesn’t want to see anyone.” Michael replied, somewhat bitterly.

“Well then I guess you’re just gonna have to sit here and wait for him to come to us like the rest of us are.” Jack snapped, but sighed and made her tone more friendly, “He’ll tell us when he can, Michael. We can’t force him to talk.”

“Of course we can make him talk! Except no one will because we can’t torture our own _fucking_ crew members!” Michael argued, voice raising in anger.

“Michael-” Gavin started but was immediately cut off by Michael’s rage.

“No, Gavin!” Michael yelled making Gavin flinch back, “He doesn’t get to disappear, come back obviously distressed and then try and disappear into his room. It doesn’t fucking work like that!”

“Yeah, so knocking down his door with the force of a thousand men and demanding to know what’s wrong with him is definitely the solution.” Ryan said sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Ryan!”

“No, fuck _you._ You’re making Gavin upset.”

“Gavin’s always upset!”

“Shut the _fuck_ up! Both of you!” Jack bellowed suddenly, slamming her fist down on the table and glaring at them both, “It’s like I’m dealing with fucking teenagers over here! You’re goddamned adults, get a hold of yourselves!”

Michael and Ryan both glared at each other for a few more moments before turning away to calm down. Geoff was sat away from them again, phone in his hand and legs tucked under him. He watched them all silently, quietly assessing each of them.

Jumping up, and pulling his phone out of his pocket as he did, Michael paced over to the door, wrenching it open with a little too much force. “Fuck this,” he muttered, poison dripping from his words, “I’ll fix this by myself.” He dialed a familiar number into the phone and held it up to his ear, letting it ring.

* * *

 

Jeremy didn’t know how long he had been in his room, or even what time of day it was. Between his episode with Mrs Jackson and the stressful cycle of his own thoughts, the day had slipped away from him. He had stopped crying though, so at least there was that. He sighed pulling his head out from underneath the covers and scratched his head, he knew he had to go and face reality at some point.

There was a knock at his door and Jeremy stopped, feeling like he had been caught doing something extremely inappropriate and not just sinking into a deep, depressive episode. “Who is it?” he called out to the unwelcome intruder.

“It’s me, asshole. Open up.”

Jeremy groaned quietly. _Michael._

He silently cursed the Twins for not being able to keep the Fakes at bay, all while secretly knowing that there was nothing that Trevor could have done to stop them anyway. “Fuck off, Michael. I’m not in the mood.”

“I got food, though.”

A pause.

“Okay, come in.”

Michael slowly opened up the door and turned the light on, “It smells like shit in here.”

“Thanks.”

“Have you showered?”

“No.”

“Go shower, the food will keep.”

A groan and a muffled curse word.

“Go, now. Fucking hell it’s like looking after a child.” Michael placed down the food on Jeremy’s desk and went over to Jeremy’s closet to get some clean clothes for him, “Here put these on.”

“....Fuck off.”

“You let me in because you wanted food but you ain’t gettin’ any food until you get up, get washed and get dressed.” Michael ripped Jeremy’s covers off of him and Jeremy whined. “Get up, I’ll dish up your food.”

Jeremy grumbled something about being an adult and about how he didn’t need Michael to treat him like a goddamned child, but still reluctantly got up and headed to his bathroom to have a shower. He let the water pelt down onto his back and sighed. While Michael’s methods left a lot to be desired, it did help. Having someone there to kick him into gear when he couldn’t himself helped. He let his worries wash away with the grime of the day.

After his shower he got changed and headed into his bedroom, feeling lighter now that he was clean and fresh. Michael had set up two sets of knives and forks along with two plates with a spread of Chinese food containers scattered along his bed. While Jeremy had been in the shower he had also opened up his windows and curtains to let was was left of the afternoon sun into the room along with some much needed fresh air. He was sat cleaning up some of the mess that Jeremy’s room had accumulated over the course of his stay there. Michael noticed him standing in the doorway and nodded at him, “I didn’t really know what you would like so I just got some chicken chow mein.”

“Chow mein is fine.”

Jeremy sat down on his bed where Michael had set up his plate and watched as Michael served out their food onto their plates, once he was done he set all of the half empty containers down on the floor so that they wouldn’t knock them over and sat crossed legged at the end of Jeremy’s bed. It didn’t seem like Michael wanted to talk, and Jeremy was fine with that. They ate together in relative silence, only interrupted when Michael would ask for the sauce or Jeremy would comment on the food. It wasn’t awkward perse, it was more of a feeling of having someone there. Not being alone, but not being overwhelmed. It was almost comforting to Jeremy.

He and Michael were close. Michael was probably the closest to a genuine friend he had in the Fakes, second being Ryan. After all, he was the first Fake he had ever met and the one who had introduced him to the rest. After Jeremy had joined and there was a lull in activity or heists, Michael made sure to keep him company. When Jeremy would sit around, not too sure of who to talk to to or what to really do in this huge building, Michael would be there to show him how to pass the time and to guide him around. Jeremy had appreciated it, especially knowing that Michael really wasn’t the type to usually do that.

“Why are you here, Michael?” Jeremy asked, playing with his food.

Michael looked at him and shrugged chewing on a large mouthful of noodles, cheeks puffed out like a hamster. “ _We haf foo’._ ” he said through chews. He swallowed and grinned, “And I knew you hadn’t eaten so I brought some up for you. You’re welcome.”

“No, I mean-” Jeremy sighed and picked at his food, “Nevermind.”

“What did you mean?”

“I just meant… you came up here after I’d been missing the whole day. Figured you wanted to know why.” Jeremy shrugged, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope.”

“So, you don’t want to know?” Jeremy asked, confused by the whole situation.

Michael shrugged and picked up some more food, “No, I mean, I’m dying to know what happened, but I mainly want to make sure you’re okay. Figured a shower and some good food would do wonders. Does for me. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Jeremy watched as Michael struggled with the chopsticks and trying to shovel food onto his plate. He grinned widely at him, “Thank you.”

“No problem, dude.”

“You’re good at this, you know? If the whole Fake thing doesn’t work out at least you have a career in being a therapist.”

Michael laughed, almost choking of his food, “Yeah or a babysitter. What’s the difference though, am I right?”

Jeremy laughed but insisted, “Seriously though, dude. You’re great. Best way to get me to open up is to not ask or try to find out what’s going on inside my head at all. Maybe a babysitter is a good idea.”

“No thanks I have enough trouble babysitting the rest of the Fakes and Lindsay.” Michael laughed fondly.

_Lindsay…_ Jeremy thought, _wasn’t she the one Trevor mentioned earlier?_

“Who’s Lindsay?”

Michael looked at him, confused, “My wife…?”

Jeremy raised his eyebrows in shock, “You have a wife?”

Michael looked equally as shocked, “Uh yeah dude, have I never told you about her? She works with the B Team upstairs, she’s their boss. You didn’t wonder why I have two closets in my room?”

“I don’t know I guess-- I guess I just never thought about it.”

“Yeah, we’ve been married for years now. Well,” Michael paused and lifted up his hands to make quote marks,” _’Married’,_ technically we aren’t actually married ‘cause it’s kinda hard to have my mug at a public celebration without someone ratting us out. You know how it is.”

Jeremy had never really thought that any of the Fakes had anyone. He assumed that their life was so chaotic, so insane and dangerous that they would never want to bring any else into that life, but if Michael’s wife was already working for the Fakes then she knew what she was getting into. He did admire it, that even in the most chaotic of lives two people can still find each other and love each other and want to share a life together. He couldn't even begin to think what their life together must be like. Thoughts of Michael coming back to their apartment in the building smelling of smoke from explosives, getting a kiss from his wife and then sitting down to eat dinner and discuss the day’s chaos. Michael didn’t seem like the ‘Honey, I’m home typer’, but Jeremy supposed he could have read Michael all wrong. It was almost funny, how gentle Michael became at the mere mention of Lindsay, how his eyes softened and his posture relaxed. They must really love each other. “Do any of the others have wives or, uh,” Jeremy thought for a second, “...husbands?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so at least. Geoff’s an enigma so who knows what’s real and what’s not with him. Jack has a girl in Australia that she’s sweet with, I’ve heard Gavin make fun of her for it. We’ve only just learnt Ryan’s name, I doubt he’s going to share anything else than he needs to about his life, it’s a possibility though. Gavin… maybe he does. He was supposedly dating a Playboy model a while back-”

“That _prick_.”

“I know right.” Michael laughed. “I think they’re still together.”

Jeremy leaned back against his headboard, thinking everything over, “How do you guys even date with a job like this?”

Michael shrugged, “Find like minded people I suppose. We get invited to a lot of parties. You meet people there who aren’t really into the whole ‘abiding by the laws of the land’ thing either.” He looked at Jeremy coyly, “You got anyone special?”

Jeremy watched Michael make mock kissy faces at him and ducked his head, embarrassed, “No, I don’t. Not since leaving home at least.” Michael stopped messing around and looked away from Jeremy, suddenly awkward.

“Dude, I’m sorry for bringing it up.”

“No! No, really it’s fine. It’s… It’s okay. We were highschool sweethearts and she came from a complete different life. She- Kat is a wonderful woman and I love her so, _so_ much which-” he stopped and took a second to himself, “which is why I had to leave her behind.”

“I’m… so sorry, Jeremy.” Michael said sincerely, kinder than Jeremy had ever seen him before. “Really, I am. I know what that’s like.”

“...Yeah."

Shaking himself out of it, Jeremy put on a large smile, jabbing Michael with the end of his chopsticks, “So, Lindsay, huh? Why haven’t I met her yet?”

Michael laughed, embarrassed, “I’m sure you’ll meet her soon. She’s been away a lot recently, flying all over the place doing Geoff’s bidding. But she’s almost done with all that now. Man, I do _not_ envy that B Team lifestyle.”

“Oh yeah, the B Team…” Jeremy thought back to Trevor and Alfredo, “How many of them are there, anyway? Trevor, Alfredo, Lindsay… Are there more?”

Michael pulled out his phone, “Dude, you have them in your contacts,” He showed Jeremy a familiar screen, the contacts that all the Fakes had in their phones, reduced to simple initials. Jeremy had seen them when he had first joined but never questioned who they were past his initial curiosity. Looking at them now with fresh eyes he could put some faces to the letters.

_t.c._ was Trevor Collins, the long faced, pale man in the two piece suit. “He’s usually who we call if we need help, either him or his twin, Alfredo. He’s practically an honorary A Team member, but he’s just so _damn_ good at paperwork that we keep him locked away.”

_a.d._ was Alfredo Diaz. “He’s Trevor’s partner but also who we go to when we need fire power. He has contacts with all the best arms dealers in town, and he knows how to haggle. We need explosives? We go to him.”

“Those two… they aren’t _actually_ twins, though. Right?” Jeremy asked, dumbly.

“Well no, they’re two different races to start with, Jeremy.” Michael stated. Jeremy flushed, slightly embarrassed.

_l.j._ The initials stared up at Jeremy blankly. “Lindsay Jones.” Michael said, a smile already taking over his face, “The boss of the B Team. She works closely with Geoff and does all the stuff he doesn’t want to do, like tying up loose ends and dealing with… problematic cases.” Michael finished, awkwardly. Jeremy raised an eyebrow, there was more there.

He looked at the two remaining initials, _m.b._ and _s.h._

“Who are these guys then?” Jeremy prompted, pointed to the two contacts.

“Matt Bragg and Steffie Hardy. You won’t see them too much. Matt is our tech guy--”

“I thought Gavin was your tech guy?” Jeremy interrupted, confused.

Michael tilted his head to one side, face annoyed as if the mere mention of his best friend irritated him, “Gavin is… what Gavin wants to be. He’s not very reliable. Sure he’ll invent some cool gadgets that we can use in our heists and I haven’t seen him fail to hack anything. But he only does that because he _wants_ to, because it interests him. If there’s something that’s less interesting but _vital_ he won’t do it. So that’s why we have Matt.”

Jeremy thought for a moment, “So, Matt just gets the shit Gavin doesn’t want? That doesn’t seem fair to him.”

Michael scratched the back of his head nervously, “I guess it did start out like that but nowadays we actually tend to give stuff to Matt without even going to Gavin first, and it pisses him off.”

“If it pisses Gavin off, then we should keep doing it.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

The last initial, _s.h._ (or Steffie, as he now knew), he already had some indirect communication with, having messaged her a few times to ask for groceries and for assorted goods. It never stopped being awkward, asking a complete stranger to get things for him that he was more than happy getting himself. But there was a safety issue there, he knew. And given how his trip into the City had taken a turn today, he wasn’t sure if he’d be willing to do he own shopping for a while. “Steffie is a lifesaver, just don’t let her know I said that.”

“I have no idea what she- or really any of the B Team look like.” Jeremy pondered, feeling guilty, ‘We work with them, shouldn’t I know these people as well as I know you guys by now?” He couldn’t help the lingering feeling that the B Team already knew everything there was to know about _him_ when he had only just learnt their names.

“Just think of them as being in a different department. They work in R&D while we work in…”

“Human Resources?” Jeremy finished for him. “Does that mean we have office Christmas parties?”

“Boy, _do_ we.”

The conversation simmered down from there, Michael fiddled with one of the now empty Chinese take out containers, ripping the thin card at the seam and turning it into confetti. Jeremy sighed and went to clean up the empties and their dirty cutlery. “Jeremy,” Michael said, as Jeremy worked away, “I really do hope you feel better soon.”

“I will,” Jeremy promised, “I just had a bad day is all.”

Another silence. And then.

“You know how me and Gavin cheer ourselves up?”

“...How?”

“Blow shit up.”

* * *

 

The name of the game was Dynamite Skeeball.

They had made their way towards the outer edges of the city to a huge junkyard which was apparently abandoned according to Gavin, which was perfect for their activities. They had been here before so the stage was set ready for them to fuck shit up. Said stage was a large rectangle of sand, clear of junk with three totalled cars parked at each third of the rectangle. The nearest car was ten points, the middle car was twenty five points and the furthest car away was the grand total of fifty points. The goal was to be the first one to get to five hundred points. Simple enough.

Gavin, Michael and Jeremy (dressed as Rimmy Tim, just in case) sauntered up to the field, arms and bags filled with explosives ranging from small firecrackers to actual bricks of C4. “How much does this game cost you guys?"

“Listen, our job is to cause chaos. Financing is the B Teams job.”

“Of course.”

Gavin jumped around in place, jittery with excitement, “Come on then, who’s first?”

Rimmy looked around at Michael and Gavin, “It’s gotta be one of you guys, I don’t have a technique down just yet. If I do it now I might just fucking drop it at our feet and blow us up.”

“Which is why you have the firecrackers, Rimjob.” Michael said with a snort. Taking initiative, he lit the fuse on his stick of dynamite and threw it as hard as he could into the field. They heard the heavy thud of it landing and a few seconds later the area lit up with a deafening _BANG_ as it exploded.

_“Bloody Nora!”_ Gavin squawked, “How strong are those sticks?”

Michael looked at them with wild eyes and a manic grin on his face, “I don’t know but I _love_ it! A 25 on my first go! Today’s going to be a good day, lads.”

“Me next!” Gavin said and set the timer on his small pebble of C4, then lobbed it as far as he could. Unfortunately, as far as he could wasn’t that far at all and it exploded (rather magnificently) in the ten point zone. Michael cackled and Gavin kicked his legs out in anger yelling into the night ( _“Weak!”_ ).

Rimmy grinned and bit his tongue, carefully lighting the end of the fire crackers and honing in his years of playing high school football to help him through this. He threw it as hard as he could until he couldn’t see it in the pitch black and waited for it to explode. And explode it did, crackling loudly and showing that Rimmy had just scored a solid twenty five points. He threw his arms up into the air and cheered while squealed indignantly next to him. _“Boooom!!”_

“Oh, what the Christ?!”

“Holy shit!” Michael laughed, equal parts in amazement at Rimmy’s beginners lucks and also at Gavin’s response to it. “You’re a natural, Lil J!”

“This is bullshit, Jeremy’s cheating.” Gavin moaned.

Rimmy looked mock confused at Michael and scratched the back of his hat making it flap up, “Jeremy? I don’t know any Jeremy’s, boy.” Michael laughed loudly at him, coming out as more as a cackle than anything else.

“You’re such a weirdo.” Gavin laughed. “Alright, Michael your turn again.”

Michael pulled out another stick and kissed it for luck before lighting the fuse and throwing it into the field. Another twenty five. “Damn, was hoping to get fifty that time. Gotta keep moving up.”

“What if it lands beyond the field’s boundaries?” Rimmy asked.

Gavin shrugged, “We don’t really know, neither of us have gotten there yet but we both agreed it would be an automatic win.”

“Yeah cause getting that good of a shot and then not winning feels a bit like you’re being cheated, and it’s saves time on arguments later down the road.” Michael added. “Gav, your go.”

Gavin was pretty consistently awful, all of his shots landing in the ten point zone with only one or two getting to twenty five. Though when there was an occasion that his explosive _did_ land in the twenty five point zone, he would cheer and whoop and dance around awkwardly where the three of them were standing acting like he was the very first person ever to get that score.

Michael however was consistently good, and it annoyed him. He was aiming to get better and get the the fifty point zone, only for his explosives to only ever land in the twenty five point zone. With every throw he would see it explode in the same area and yell out a guttural _“God Damnit!”_ and punch at the air or at Gavin, who would flinch away or try and kick back at him.

Rimmy on the other hand was all over the place. After his brief but exciting stint at being good at this game he quickly realised that he didn’t actually have any idea what he was doing. He either nose dived his explosives into the ten point zone (sometime so close that they have to take cover) or he threw them so hard that they buried themselves in the twenty five point zone.

After a little while, Michael called for a time out, pointing his left hand to the palm of his right hand to make a capital ‘T’ shape, “Hey, how about we change it? Next round is the last round and we have to get a fifty pointer or we’re all just fucking awful and might as well be dead.”

“Aw, come off it, I was almost at 300 points!” Gavin whined, uncaring that Michael and Rimmy were completely ignoring him.

Rimmy shrugged, “It’s all you, Michael. I don’t think I’ll be able to get there.”

“Well, now you’ve fucked me by jinxing it.”

They all lined up in order, Michael on the far left, Gavin in the middle and Rimmy on the far right. Each of them holding their choice explosive. This wasn’t just a game anymore, this was war. “You ready, lads?” Rimmy asked, and the other two grunted in agreement. “Then let’s do this.”

Michael stepped forward, ready to take the shot. “Come on, baby. You can do it, baby.” Michael mumbled to his dynamite stick, causing Gavin to look at him funny. Michael took a deep breath and threw it as far as he could, letting out a completely genuine yell from the effort he was putting into the throw. It soared through the air and into the darkness, hit something metal and landed with a familiar thump on the ground. It exploded and Michael let out a screech of frustration as he realised the stick had hit the fifty point zone car and bounced back into the twenty five point zone.

Gavin was next and after seeing Michael’s tremendous fail, Rimmy could see that he was nervous. He tried to calm himself, rolling his shoulders back and taking in a deep breath. He was ready. He carefully set the timer on his small dollop of C4 and threw it as hard as his skinny little arms could. The timer went off and it exploded… in the ten point zone. Gavin fell to his knees and put his head in his hands, utterly destroyed. Michael looked at him and patted him on the shoulder, the two of them going through their failures together.

But Rimmy wasn’t going to let his peers’ failures stop him. He was going to do this for everyone he loved, and even for some of the people he just liked. He pulled out his chain of firecrackers and lit the fuse, pulled back his arm and threw. It flew through the air, the first crackles starting to go before it had even landed. It was looking promising. Rimmy’s eyes widen, and the corners of his lips turned up in joy. He suddenly started to feel more alive than he had in _months._ All due to this small little firecracker, soaring through the night air. It started it’s descent down, and all eyes were on that brave little firecracker. It landed and started to snap and pop. Rimmy closed his eyes. It was a twenty five pointer.

There was silence in the junkyard and Michael, Gavin and Rimmy Tim all felt completely emasculated. Outdone by a static rundown car and a field. Wonderful.

“You know,” Michael said finally, as the air settled around them, muggy and downright depressed, “Maybe we just suck at this game.”

“That’s probably it.” Rimmy agreed sadly, kicking his feet in the dust.

Gavin looked up from his hands, eyes red and devastated, “I can’t believe this has happened to us. We can never face the others again.” he said, dramatically.

Michael and Gavin nodded in solemn silence, eyes closed in defeat,  while Rimmy just shrugged, “I mean we could just not tell them.”

A beat.

“Sounds good to me.” Michael agreed.

“Let’s never speak of this again.” Gavin warned.

* * *

 

They were in the bank again.

It was just Rimmy Tim and the Vagabond, and they were slowly stalking their way through the halls, postures low and guns ready. It felt cold in the bank, the windows all open to the night air and the hallways were crisp with it. They continued to walk, to check every room for any signs of life. They hadn’t found any so far. With every new section The Vagabond would let Gavin know that the area was clear. They continued to walk, and walk, and walk. Rimmy felt like they had been walking for hours with no end in sight.

Finally, The Vagabond straightened up and sighed, though it was muffled by his mask. “Free, where’s the entrance hall? We’re lost out here.”

_“It should be right around the corner, Vagabond. On your left.”_

Rimmy and the Vagabond shared a look but continued, Rimmy taking the lead ready to get out of the maze. He turned the corner and saw more hallways and groaned in annoyance, “Gavin, you dick. The entrance hall isn’t here.” Rimmy turned around to the Vagabond only to find that he wasn’t there any more. Rimmy backed up in shock and whipped his body around, waiting for the Vagabond to come out of the shadows and scare him. “Ryan?” he called, voice shaky, “Ryan, come on man. Cut it out.”

He heard voices from down the hallway.

Rimmy spun around and without missing a beat ran towards the voices. He ran and ran and ran but the voices stayed at the same distance they had been, echoing off of the walls and through the vents to Rimmy’s ears. He cursed and spun around where he stood, searching for the disembodied voices. “Ryan!” he yelled.

He spun around once again and suddenly he was in the entrance hall. It was empty, it was cold. Why was everything so cold? The voices were clearer now, much clearer. And closer. They sounded like they were inside Rimmy’s head they were so close. He yelled in frustration, his head splitting from stress. Until suddenly the voices were gone. He blinked in shock and looked around and saw The Vagabond and a security guard four feet ahead of him, The Vagabond with his gun raised directly at the security guard’s head.

“No.”

The Vagabond said something, but Rimmy couldn’t hear him any more, and the security guard raised his arms in surrender, hands shaking in fear. “Let him go, Ryan.” The Vagabond couldn't hear him, or if he could he didn’t acknowledge him. “Let him _go!_ ” Rimmy tried to walk towards them but he was being held in place, he struggled against the invisible arms holding onto him and screamed at the security guard in warning. He had to save him, he had to save him. He had to. He had to-

_“Well, obviously don’t fucking kill each other,”_ Michael’s voice said in his ear _, “anyone else is fair game though, especially if they shoot first.”_

_“But no hostages.”_ His own voice said in his other ear. The Vagabond tightened his grip on his gun and got ready to take the shot.

_“Right. No hostages.”_ Michael’s disembodied voice said. The security guard was sobbing now, his face wet with tears, pleading for his life, _“Don’t fuck it up.”_

The Vagabond took his shot and-

Jeremy awoke with a start, his entire body covered in a light sheen of cold sweat. He was panting, with short stuttered breaths, as he tried get a grasp on where he was. He threw his head back onto the pillow and grabbed at his face in frustration. He just wanted some peace.

* * *

 

“Nightmares?”

Jeremy had decided to come to Jack about his dreams, not because he didn’t trust anyone else with it. He just didn’t think they would take it as seriously as he did. Jack had been helpful since Jeremy first showed up, making sure that he felt comfortable in the group and always trying to make everyone happy. She was like the Wendy to Geoff’s Lost Boys.

“Yeah, ever since the other week’s incident.” Jeremy kicked his feet as he sat, feet not quite touching the floor from where he sat on the table. “I just wanna know if they’re going to be a permanent thing.”

Jack hummed in thought as she pottered around, cleaning the rec room, “Well what are the nightmares about?”

“The bank, mostly.” Jeremy said.

“Oh, because of the Vagabond getting shot?” she asked, head tilted .

“No, no. Not that, it’s-” Jeremy sighed and tucked his legs up, burying his face in his knees, “I think I’m feeling guilty. About… I suppose about Ryan getting shot but also just… I don’t think I really took in how many people I killed and it’s finally dawning on me.”

Jack nodded wisely and walked over to him to sit down, “Well, that’s a familiar tune.”

Jeremy looked up at her, “You had them too?”

“I think all of us did. We aren’t murderers at heart, I suppose, or at least we weren’t.” Jack looked forward, her mind elsewhere, “When Michael joined, his first kill was protecting me, some asshole had snuck up on me. Michael took him out. It messed with him a lot. He was just a petty thief before the Fakes, he hadn’t signed up for murder.”

Jeremy watched her as she spoke in quiet shock. He hadn’t even thought about it, but most of the Fakes must have gone through this at some point. He knew that Geoff and Jack started the Fakes together and that they had never done anything this big before, Michael, Gavin and Ryan just joined them. He had no idea what they were doing before the Fakes. They could've easily have been just normal citizens who fell into this world by complete accident. “I didn’t even think about that.”

Jack smiled at him and wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull him in for a side hug, “I’m sorry you’re going through this though. It sucked for me, I’m sure it sucks for you.”

Jeremy looked away from her, his heart thudding against his chest, he had to tell her the truth. “Jack...it’s not just that though.” She didn’t say anything, she was letting him talk, “When I went into town, I visited a bar I used to go to all the time before I joined to catch up with the people there. There was this guy, I don’t even know his name, but he… He was nice to me, he didn’t ask questions even though I knew he wanted to and we got close. Well, as close as two strangers watching a game together could. I went back there, hoping to maybe see him but he-” Jeremy stopped, his throat closing up with emotion. “I was told he was killed, by us. By _Ryan._ And I hadn’t even realised.”

Jack’s eyes widen as he spoke and she moved back slightly, “Oh, God. Jeremy, I didn’t-”

He rubbed his fists against his hands in frustration, “After I found out I just needed to get away, it’s why I went missing. I need to just get away, to find somewhere to go, to sit down and- and _process_ this. God.” Jeremy hunched over himself, breathing deeply and trying not to cry. He had cried over this too many times, “I had a fucking panic attack over it and I feel- I feel so _fucking_ pathetic even admitting that. This has just been, so fucking difficult to deal with and I don’t-  don’t-”

Jack shushed him gently as he spoke, trying to calm him down. She pulled him in for a proper hug to calm him down, whispering sweet affirmations to him. Telling him that he was going to be okay, that he was going to get through this, and that she was proud of him. He buried his face into her shoulder and let himself be held by her, the weight he had been carrying around with him finally lifting and letting him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The skeeball scene is my favourite scene in the entire fic, it was a scene I wrote way back in November 2017 (almost a whole year ago). It was perfect and really didnt need any editing or corrections. I think I wrote it one night after I hadn't slept very well. Weird what your brain will pump out when you're tired, huh? Another chapter of poor Jeremy feeling sad, but at least he's got his new family there looking after him. I'm aiming to have every chapter finished by the time November comes around so this story will be finishing up very soon. Sad face, BUT there are always new stories.


	9. Chapter 9

_ “If I cease searching, then, woe is me, I am lost. That is how I look at it - keep going, keep going come what may.”  _ _   
_ **_― Vincent van Gogh, The Letters of Vincent van Gogh_ **

* * *

 Jeremy awoke to silence.

Usually when he managed to tear himself out of his deep slumbers, he finds himself groggily returning to reality to the sounds of his teammates yelling and the City churning into motion. Today however, his entire room was suffocating in its tranquility. He slowly pushed the covers off himself and slung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching his arms above his head and feeling his stiff joints pop and creak. He reached for his phone, and the sleek screen lit up telling him matter-of-factly that it was 10am. 

After showering, he pulled on a fresh undershirt, graphic tee and jeans, and headed out of his apartment, thinking about breakfast. 

The dining room, much like the rest of the building, was quiet. Jeremy looked around the narrow space and thought as he chewed on his cereal. In all his time of working there, he hadn’t known the base to be this… still. It was unnerving. Curiously, he pulled out his phone and checked his messages, heading immediately to the  _ ‘Crew’  _ group chat. No new messages. He sent off a quick  _ ‘Where is everyone?’  _ message to Michael, before setting it down. 

Almost immediately, the phone lit up again, cheerfully announcing that it had one new message composed of just three words.

_ m.j. _

_ We got trouble. _

And then another moments later:

_ m.j. _

_ Rec room. _

Concerned, Jeremy pushed his cereal to the side and headed off, worry gnawing at his stomach. As he got closer to the room he could finally hear some of the chaotic sounds he had associated with living in the City, and especially with the Fakes. He could hear the sounds of low whispers, but above all else he could hear the clear and tinny tones of a television. He walked through the door carefully and all eyes turned to him. The Fakes were, for lack of a better term, a mess. Ryan was shaking, eyes red, wet and furious. The others were ghostly pale and shaken. Jeremy stopped in his tracks and gaped at them, he stuttered out the beginning of a sentence before his eyes drifted up to the TV in the center of the room. On the screen was a news channel in the middle of a breaking news story. At the bottom of the screen, large, white incriminating letters read out:

_ ‘FAKES IDENTITIES REVEALED IN HACKER LEAK’ _

“Jeremy-” Michael started, his voice weak. He walked towards the frozen Jeremy and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to get Jeremy to look at him rather than the the television. Said television had cutaway from the taut faced female news presenter and had started to flip between each of the Fakes, with a list of details next to each photo.

“Don’t look at it any more, Jeremy.” Michael told him, jerking Jeremy’s body to face away from the screen to instead look at him. 

Jeremy, light headed, stared at the man, “How…? How did this happen?”

“There was a security breach. We don’t know how, we don’t know anything. This news only just broke.” Jack told him, from where she sat, looking as fragile as Jeremy felt. 

Ryan seethed and turned to Gavin, who shrunk in his seat, “Well, there  _ is  _ the one way.”

“Ryan.” Geoff warned from where he stood by the window, just a silhouette with the light behind him. 

Jeremy’s heart sank, “No, wait- What do you mean, Ryan?” He wrenched his way out of Michael’s grasp and approached the guilty man, “What did you  _ do?” _

Gavin looked up at him, eyes feral and terrified, “I-I didn’t do-”

_ “Don’t lie to me!”  _ Jeremy screamed at him, fury and fear overwhelming his senses. 

“Jeremy! Leave it!” Jack cautioned him, standing up and moving towards the two young men, pushing Jeremy lightly away.

“Why should he?! We let Gavin do whatever he wants and it ends up with everyone’s lives being put in danger! Just because  _ no one thought to monitor what he was doing. _ ” Ryan yelled, getting into Jack’s space and spitting his words at her.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Haywood. We’re all in danger here, some more than others if you don’t calm the  _ fuck  _ down.” Jack retorted, her voice level and calm despite everything.

Ryan got even closer, so that their noses were almost touching, his eyes wild and dark. “You don’t even understand the danger you’re in right now, Jack.”

“Is that a threat?” she asked, her eyes narrowing. 

“I wouldn’t even hesitate going through you if it meant I could get to  _ him. _ ” 

Gavin whimpered behind Jack.

There was a cocking of a gun and Ryan turned around to see Michael edging towards them, his pistol raised, “Touch either of them, I shoot you where you stand.”

“You  _ promised  _ me…” Jeremy said, to the side, quietly. “You  _ promised  _ that joining would keep safe, keep me hidden.” He looked up at the television and saw his own face, a photo taken from a college party back in Boston. His cheeks were flushed with the touch of alcohol and the bitterly cold wind from that winter’s night.

His mind travelled back to how his gut instinct upon getting the invitation to join the Fakes was to deny it, for his safety. Had he known, on some level, that it would end this way?

“Enough.” Geoff’s voice cut through the tension. He turned away from the City. “We need to stop this hacker before they strike again.”

The room froze for a moment, no one willing to be the one to move first. 

Michael lowered his gun, his jaw set, spurring Ryan to move away from the whole group and sit by himself. The whole room seemed to fill with air again and they all took a moment to breathe. “How exactly do we do that?” Michael queried, suddenly exhausted with the weight of the events that had transpired, “We don’t know anything about this guy.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Geoff started walking over to the group and unlocking his iPad that was streun about on the couch. “The hacker got cocky, and sent a video to my personal email earlier this morning, prior to the news breaking.”

_ “And you’re only telling us this now--?!”  _ Ryan started but was quickly hushed by Geoff raising a finger at him, and tapping ‘play’. He turned the screen around for the rest of them to see and they all huddled closer to watch.

On the screen there was a shadowy figure. The hacker. He was in a dark room with minimal light, sat behind a desk. 

_ “Hello Fakes,”  _ he said, in a garbled and heavily edited voice,  _ “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all for so long.” _

The Fakes, having been addressed directly, all leaned in closer.

_ “I have watched you for all these years, searched for every scrap of newspaper with your name stamped on it. Even gone to a few of your heist locations just to watch you at work. For years I’ve wondered who you all are, where you all came from and now I know. And let it be known. I am greatly disappointed. _

_ “You all present yourselves to have such power, such dignity, but behind it all you’re nothing. Murderers. Torturers. Criminals. All a front. Each of you have such sad, sorry beginnings, all it takes it a few little cracks in your armour for you all to come crumbling down. A shamed pilot. A family man. A starving thief. An abandoned child.”  _ The hacker laughed cruelly, the technology disguising his voice making the laugh come out inhuman,  _ “The runaway.” _

Jeremy felt a chill go down his spine.

_ “All running, all hiding and all in plain sight. How absolutely pitiful. Your name is apt, after all, hmm? The ‘Fakes’. Since that is, after all, what you all are. You must have asked yourself, how long can you stay hidden? I can give you an answer.” _

The man straightened up in his seat and, despite his face being hidden, his tone turned serious.  _ “Every hour I will release more information about your personal lives. Starting with your names, and ending with each of your current locations. With that final bit of information, every man, woman and officer you have wronged in your time as a Fake will be hunting you down. So, you’d better start runnin’. Auf Wiedersehen, my Fakes. I’ll be speaking to you soon.” _

The video cut off, and the Fakes all stared in silence at the black screen.

Geoff, stoic as ever, lowered the iPad to his side and addressed them all, “True to his word, the first set of details he released were our names and our faces. Some personal photos were released that were in our personal cloud, and any other information that was in the cloud his also has. Meaning our lives, and the lives of everyone we love, are in danger.”

“Shut down the cloud.” Jeremy said, “If the cloud is down, he wont have that information any more.”

“He’ll have backups,” Gavin replied, weakly. His face was white as a sheet as he spoke, “And backups for those backups. He doesn’t need the cloud any more, he’s gotten everything he needed.”

_ “I don’t wanna hear another squeak from you, you assho-!”  _

“Jeremy.” Geoff cut him off, “Gavin’s right. We need to focus, and he was helping us put a stop to this.”

Jack squeezed the bridge of her nose, sighing deeping, “How long until the next leak?”

Michael checked his watch, “The news broke at 9:40 am, and it’s 10:30 am now. If he stays true to his own schedule then we should be getting another leak in ten minutes. Fuck knows what he’ll leak this time.”

“He’ll start with the basics. Name, D.O.B., previous occupations. Give people just enough that they’re interested.” Geoff mused, his hands clenching and unclenching in thought. “He wouldn’t give out anything massively damaging until tonight, when the interest around this story gets to its height. He wants us to get torn to pieces, he can’t do that with no one watching.”

Jeremy looked over to Ryan, who was standing off to the side by himself, his posture tense. He knew how protective Ryan was about his family and now that that safety was compromised...

“How much time do we have?” Jeremy asked, trying to keep his voice low. 

“Not long, maybe twelve hours.” Geoff told him, regretfully. “Gavin, is there anything you can do to help find this guy?”

Shocked, the man looked up at Geoff with wide, wet eyes, “Geoff, I really don’t think I should get involved-”

“Nonsense, who else would do this?” Geoff told him, “We need our tech guy, Gavin. You made a mistake but we can  _ fix it.  _ So get that brilliant brain of yours into gear and find this fucker.”

Gavin spared a look behind him at Ryan, who was purposefully  _ not  _ looking at him. He sighed and his eyebrows pinched together in defeat, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“Thank fuck.” Michael said, slumping into a seat ungracefully, “I thought we were gonna have to get Bragg to do it.”

Rolling up his sleeves, Gavin pulled forward his ever close by laptop and got to work, “I’ll disable the cloud as well while I’m at it, just for good measure. It’s caused enough trouble as is. Geoff, what are your email details? I need to see if I can trace his IP.”

“Would it really be that simple?” Jeremy asked, despite himself.

Gavin gave him a look but shook his head, “No. If he can hack his way through my security, then he can hide his location. But, it’s worth a try.”

“Right, Gavin will get to work o n that. In th e meantime I need people on the streets who can go to wherever Gavin needs us to go.” Geoff said, ready to take action, “Ryan, can you go?” 

Ryan said nothing, and just nodded one very solid, and angry, nod.

“Jack, can he go?” Geoff turned to Jack for a second opinion.

Jack looked up, having not been listening wrapped up in her own thoughts, “Yeah, he should be fine to go now as long as he’s careful and doesn’t hurt the wound any further.”

Geoff nodded, “Right so, Ryan and Michael you two are Team Alpha, take a car, with blackout windows, and head to the north side of the city. Patrol until you hear anything from Gavin.”

Ryan and Michael both nodded and looked at each other, a mutual sense of rage burning within them. Geoff looked at Gavin, “Jack, stay with Gavin. You’ll be keeping home base safe while everyone’s out. If this guy knows where we live there’s a chance he’ll be coming here. You need to be ready for that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Jack said, voice still distant, but snapped back into it, “I’ll keep this house safe.” she said with confidence. Geoff smiled at her, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing slightly.

Jeremy looked at Geoff, “What about me?”

“You’re with me on the southern side of the city. I have some contacts there who might help us out.”

Jeremy nodded. 

“Okay, good. Gavin, get to work. Everyone else, get ready.”

It was almost ironic, that their preparation for their mission paralleled a team of superheroes suiting up. He supposed they were anti-heroes in some way. Fighting against a super villain to protect their secret identities. Jeremy had felt silly before, slowly changing into Rimmy Tim’s attire, noting how ridiculous he looked in comparison to the others (that had, after all been the intention of the outfit). But putting it on now, he felt like he was putting on battle armour. That the sleek purple blazer was a bulletproof vest.

He met with the others in the garage, two cars already picked out for each team. Michael and Ryan stood by one and Geoff stood by the other, waiting for Jeremy to arrive. Jack and Gavin stood a ways away, ready to send them off. As Jeremy walked towards Geoff, he gave him a tilt of his Stetson, a sign of respect and Geoff accepted it, opening up the car door and sliding into the driver’s seat. 

Michael and the Vagabond drove away first, Michael saluting out of the window as they sped out of the garage. Geoff looked towards Gavin and Jack and waved towards them with a half smile, and then turned towards Jeremy, who was decked out in his Rimmy Tim outfit once more, “You ready?”

Rimmy, despite the pit in his stomach making him feel queasy with nerves, nodded and smiled at his boss, “Yeah, I’m ready.” Geoff slapped his back and set the car into motion, pulling out of the garage and into the City.

“Let’s go.”

Gavin watched them go and let go of a deep breath, slumping over slightly, “Do you think we’ll be able to d o this?”

Jack continued to look out sadly at the exit of the garage, “I really hope so.”

* * *

 There was dead silence in Team Alpha’s car. Not because the air was awkward or because the Vagabond and Michael didn’t know how to talk to each other, but because they were _pissed._ As Michael drove he had to keep forcing himself to stop going as fast as his foot naturally wanted to go. He thought about the photo the hacker had used of Michael. It was from one of the many Fakes Christmas parties, Michael laughing with his arm wrapped around Gavin’s neck, knuckles rapping against his friend’s skull as his squawked. That had been such a lovely night, only a few months after he and Lindsay were wed. He remembered how happy he had felt at that time, so carefree and young. Michael was only thirty and he felt like the Fakes and just these past few months had aged him significantly. That had been such a lovely night and it was now forever tainted by this leak. That memory was no longer private.

Michael looked to the passenger seat and saw almost a mirror of himself in the Vagabond.

The photo the hacker had released of Ryan was one Michael had never seen before. It was Ryan, but far younger than Michael had ever seen him. The man in the photo was stunning, Michael bitterly admitted. The photo itself black, white and professionally shot. One of Ryan, baby faced and timid, posing to the camera with one arm lifted, hand behind his head, the other hand coming up to wrap around his torso. It wasn’t a domestic photo, one of Ryan laughing with his friends or family, or even with the Fakes. Rather a photo of a Ryan lost to time, the boy in that photo baring little to no resemblance to the man sat next to him now.

The Vagabond was hunched forward, counting his bullets and grumbled under his breath just loud enough for Michael to hear but not loud enough for him to be able to make out what was being said. Watching him out of the corner of his eye Michael knew that he had to take control of the situation, the turn his anger into a drive to get this job done because if both he and The Vagabond were fuming and not thinking, only bad things could happen.

“Vagabond.”

A grunt in reply.

_ “Vagabond.” _

Another, more aggressive grunt this time.

“Hey, asshole I’m talking to you!” Michael yelled at him and the Vagabond looked up in annoyance.

_ “Wh _ _ at?” _

“You need to fucking calm down, dude. I get it, I’m pissed too but we can’t be clumsy on this, we don’t know anything about this guy.”

_ “Michael he talked about my family.”  _ The Vagabond said through his teeth, voice low and dangerous.  _ “My family were never meant to be brought into this.” _

“Yeah, and my family were brought up too. Everyone’s dirty laundry was exposed to the world, we’re all in the same boat here. But we need to stay focused.”

_ “Michael-” _

“Ryan. Listen. The sooner you calm down the sooner we can kill the sonuvabitch who did this.” Michael argued, his voice low and calm. The Vagabond let out a yell of frustration and kicked his foot out but ultimately knew that Michael was right. If there was any saving grace to this whole mess, it would be to see the light fade from the bastard’s eyes. He sighed and nodded in agreement and Michael smiled slightly at him. A few minutes passed in relative silence again and Michael routinely drove through the streets of the city, and Michael looked over to the Vagabond.

“Were you really a model?”

_ “Shut up.” _

The radio buzzed and Gavin’s voice came through the grill,  _ “--BBBZZZZZZT! Michael! Michael are you there?” _

“I’m here, Gav, any leads?” Michael said turning up the radio so the Vagabond could hear clearer.

_ “Yeah, we think we know where the message was sent from, but there’s no promises that he’ll still be there.” _

“It’s still a lead and that’s all we have to go on right now. Text me the location and we’ll check it out.”

_ “Will do.” _

_ “Gavin, any word from Jeremy and Geoff?” _ The Vagabond grunted.

There was a small pause on the other end, and then timidly, Gavin replied,  _ “Not yet. They might be with Geoff’s contacts though.” _

“Let us know, Gav.” Michael said just as the text from Gavin with the location came through. “Alright, we’ll check it out now. Talk to you soon.”

_ “Keep me updated.” _

Back at the base, Gavin leaned back in his chair as his systems worked their magic and hummed in thought. Jack looked at him, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing it’s just- I don’t know. Didn’t that feel too easy to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just... “ Gavin sighed and ran a hand through his hair making strands stick out all over the place, “If we’re to believe that some amazing hacker has somehow found out everything about us, our childhoods, our families, our friends… Then why couldn’t he protect himself against my systems? I mean, they’re good, don’t get me wrong. But it pinpointed the location immediately, even though it wasn’t even a fresh hit.” Gavin sighed again, “I don’t know. It doesn’t add up.”

Jack scrunched up her face in confusion, trying to understand him, “So, what it’s a trap?”

“I don’t know. It’s starting to feel like it though.”

“Then we have to tell the others. They could be in danger.” Jack picked up her radio and chimed in to the common channel, “This is Pattillo. This is Pattillo. Vagabond do you copy?” She took her finger off of the button and listened to the static, waiting for the Vagabond’s voice. After a few seconds of silence she looked at Gavin who started to look concerned, “Jones. Jones, are you there, Jones? Ramsey? Rimmy Tim? Anyone?” 

Silence again.

“The comms are down.” Jack said, her voice low and quiet.

“The comms can’t be down, they were  _ just  _ talking to us!” Gavin shook his head, “No, no. And besides, the comms work over the radio waves and those waves are never falter, not even in a power cut. The backups are too strong. Their devices must be off.”

“But why would they turn off their radios at a time like this?!” Jack yelled, her voice breaking.

“Jack, I don’t know what’s going on but we need to find a way to contact the guys and bring them back  _ immediately.  _ Something is wrong.”

* * *

 “So this is the place?” 

Michael and The Vagabond had reached a rundown warehouse on the waterfront, a few minutes away from the hubbub of society. Perfect place for a creep like him. The floor had litt er thrown a bout everywhere and evidence that an animal of some kind had been there recently and taken the biggest shit imaginable to make the whole area stink. Michael and the Vagabond walked along the outside of the warehouse, not wanting to head inside just yet. The Vagabond turned around as he walked, taking in the decrepit state it was in,  _ “Seems like it.”  _

“You think he’s still here.” Michael said, more like a statement than a question.

_ “No. He’s long gone. But maybe we can find something here that will help us get to where he is now.” _

“You really think he would be that clumsy?”

_ “We can only hope.” _

They walked around to the front of the building and towards the entrance. As they walked up to it Michael stopped and noticed that the chain that was once keeping the place locked up to keep away kids and homeless people was now cut open. He held the chains in his hand and examined the break \-  it was clean and sharp probably done with bolt cutters. He shared a knowing look with the Vagabond :  this guy was prepared. What else was he prepared for? Michael pulled out his gun from his jacket, prompting the Vagabond to do the same and headed inside.

The inside of the warehouse was, unsurprisingly enough, exactly like the outside. It had dirt, and animal crap, and litter everywhere. Other than that it was barren, except for one small desk in the centre of the space with an open laptop sat atop it. Michael tensed up and swallowed his heart, and slowly made his way over to the desk, the Vagabond coming up on the rear, watching his back. 

As they neared the desk, Michael could clearly see that despite its surroundings the desk and the laptop were both incredibly clean and well kept. Michael would even guess that they were both brand new and never used. “What the hell…?” he muttered to himself, lowering his gun slightly to have a closer look. “Vagabond, come see this.”

The laptop was livestreaming the same news channel they had been watching back at the base, though this time there was new information next to their photos. The Vagabond hissed to his side,  _ “It’s past the hour, the hacker stayed true to his word.” _

“Our birthdays, and our hometowns. Geoff was right. Starting out easy.” Michael mused, face lit up from the screen. “But our hacker’s a no show, let’s get back to-”

Suddenly the deafening crackle of electricity shot through the air, making Michael’s hair stand on end.

A dull thud behind him.

Michael spun around to see the Vagabond unconscious on the floor his healing bullet wound tearing open bleeding heavily, the blood seeping through his shirt and onto the floor, pooling around his body. Behind him, his attacker stood tall and proud, holding a military grade taser like a trophy.

“You know, I never liked it when villai ns went on a lo ng, drawn out speech explaining their evil plans.” Trevor Collins said, stepping over the Vagabond’s body and lifting his pistol to be aimed at Michael, “So, let’s get this over with.”

Stepping out from behind Trevor, Alfredo Diaz wore a similar devilish smirk and aimed his own loaded taser at Michael’s chest, firing at the frightened man.

The prongs entered his torso and almost immediately his body tensed and shook as wave after wave of electricity poured into him. His legs buckled and he fell to the ground. His chest was tight and Michael gaped, searching for breath. Slowly his vision greyed out and he fell to his back, head light and airy. The shocks stopped but the vignette of his vision only continued to close in. The last thing he saw before he fell unconscious were two twin shadows, laughing at him.

* * *

 “If the comms are down that means that something is interfering with it. Something big.” Gavin muttered as he paced around the room, “And it has to be close by, probably in the building. If it has an area of effect and it’s with Geoff or with Michael then we would be going in and out of the area because they’re in cars. They’re mobile. So what are they gonna shut down?”

Jack watched him, her eyes wide, “The base.”

“That’s right. Us. The main base. We can’t send messages out and messages can’t get in. So: solutions.”

“We find the source and shut it down.”

“Right, and how do we find the source?”

Jack sighed and rubbed her temples, “Okay, uh. Let’s think about what we know and narrow down what it could be.”

“Exactly!” Gavin said, clapping his hands together. “So, let’s start with the basics. It has to be in the building somewhere.”

“It has to be big.”

“Not just big,  _ huge. _ ”

Jack thought for a moment, “It can’t be anything that was brought in recently, anything that big would of had to have gone through me. I would have seen it.”

Gavin thought, “So, the source isn’t something big, but is instead  _ using  _ pre-existing items to heighten its range?”

Jack jumped up, “The satellite dish!”

_ “The satellite dish!”  _ Gavin parroted, excitedly. “I knew we should have gotten a smaller one, it doesn’t need to be huge to get all the channels. We were just overcompensating. Serves us right, huh?”

“What’s the plan?” Jack asked, looking more amped up than she had been before.

Gavin slumped, “Well, usually I would suggest that we go up to the roof and sort it out, but without the guys and any idea of what’s waiting for us I really don’t want to risk it.”

There was a pause and Jack started laughing under her breath, Gavin watched her with a raised eyebrow, “What’s so funny?”

“Geoff left me here on purpose you know. To protect you and this building. I guess I should do my job, hmm?”

Gavin watched her as she grinned, happy that she’s defending her little found family, and smiled fondly, “Protecting us is what you’re best at, Jack.”

Jack stood up and faced the door, reaching out a hand to Gavin behind her. “Shall we?”

Gavin stopped for a moment, but hesitantly reached out to grasp her hand in his, beaming up at her, “Let’s do this.”

The elevator ride up to the roof was long and unnerving, Gavin was never too fond of how silent and smooth the ride felt, an elevator needed to have a bit of a rocky ride to it otherwise how do you know if it’s actually doing its job? Gavin held onto his laptop under his arm and watched Jack load up on guns and prepare herself for whatever was awaiting them up there. He breathed deeply and tried to get himself to relax. He was going to be fine. They had to get their friends, their family, back home.

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah, Gavin?”

“...I never should have collected all that information on you. On  _ all  _ of you-” he avoided Jack’s gaze, “I saw… I saw what photo they used when they revealed your name. They shouldn’t have done that. We shouldn’t have even had photos of you back when- back  _ before _ . I’m sorry.”

_ “What’s your name?” _

_ “Jacqueline.” _

_ “Jacqueli- You changed it. Well, I suppose that makes sense. I like it. Jacqueline. Jackie. It suits you.” _

_ “...Thank you, Geoff.” _

Jack stared at him for a moment. It was true that seeing a photo of herself before her transition, and that photo being shown to the whole world… It had been rough. The media had even shared her dead name without a thought. Criminals didn’t get basic decency, she supposed. “...Thanks, Gavin.” Jack said, her voice high and sweet, genuinely meaning it.

He nodded stiffly and awkwardly and straightened his back up, they were almost there. 

The roof was designed to look as inconspicuous as possible. There was nothing particularly exciting about it other than the fact that it had a large satellite dish on the top. Totally normal. It was all for show honestly, they rarely even used it for actually watching live television any more. But it was functional and that was all they needed. 

They reached the roof and headed out of the elevator with caution, Jack going first and Gavin following behind him trying his best to stay near cover, should anything start to go down. There didn’t seem to be anyone up there, for that Gavin was grateful. Jack edged closer into the center of the roof inch by inch, tracking her eyes across every platform, her breath steady. There was a large ventilation system near the far corner that she knew had a blind spot behind it so she gestured for Gavin to hide, and made her way over there.  _ Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do this.  _

She turned the corner quickly and aimed her gun at the first thing she saw, which was a battered laptop with stickers covering its casings. Jack lowered her gun in suspicion but kept her guard up all the same. The laptop’s screen was on and was playing a live stream of the news, they were still the top story. She could hear Gavin’s soft footsteps as he walked up behind her and she moved out of the way for him to see.

“Set up by the hacker?” Jack asked and Gavin took in what he was seeing.

“Maybe, doesn’t that laptop look familiar to you though?”

Jack looked at it, focusing in on the stickers, seeing that they were for multiple different cartoons and anime shows. “Is it one of ours? Michael’s?” Dread settled in her stomach. “They were in our rooms?”

“We already knew they had breach the building, Jack. They got the the roof. This is just confirmation. Or a technique to psych us out.” Gavin narrowed his eyes, angrily.

He crouched down so that the laptop was eye level with him. He reached out his hands and typed away at the keyboard for a few seconds when suddenly the laptop’s screen flickered, and the same garbled voice from before laughed cruelly at them. Gavin sprung backwards in surprise and stumbled a little, subconsciously making his way behind Jack for safety.

_ “Oh my, what do we have here?”  _ the mystery man said, his masked face moving closer to the screen as if he was observing them,  _ “Well now, you turned off my livestream. I was watching that.”  _ He tutted as if he was reprimanding them.

“God, this guy’s  _ such  _ a wanker.” Gavin spat, glaring at the screen.

The man laughed at him, the voice distorter turning his amusement into something twisted and chilling, sending shivers down Jack’s spine.  _ “Now, now, Gavin Free. No need for the claws, put them away before you break something.” _

“God, fuck you, dude.”

_ “Ooooooh, I did warn you,”  _ the man singsonged, and pressed a button where he was,  _ “Boop!”  _ Suddenly the doors to the elevator slammed shut and locked themselves in place, trapping the two of them on the rooftop. The man giggled joyously,  _ “Oooooh! I told you!” _

“Fuck, Gavin. What do we do?” Jack asked, frantically, looking around for any other exits. She couldn’t believe how  _ stupid  _ they had been to come up here.  _ Fuck. _

_ “Yeah, Gav, what’s the plan?”  _ the tinny voice came from the laptop,  _ “Grand hacker Gavin Free to the rescue. Or have I outsmarted you for once?” _

Gavin paced, running a hand through his hair, “What? ‘For once’? Do we know each other?!”

The masked man stayed quiet, for the first time since he had first appeared and looked down, shoulders quaking in silent chuckles,  _ “Typical Gavin Free. Only ever thinking about himself. Bet you didn’t even know that you weren’t the only person who was handy with a computer in the building.” _

“Wha-”, flashes of a scrawny man with long brown hair and a messy beard popped into his head, “ _ Matt? Matt Bragg?!” _

Jack looked at Gavin in shock and confusion and then to the laptop not fully understanding the situation, “What? Matt Bragg from upstairs? Why’s he doing this?” Jack turned her full attention to the laptop and yelled furiously, “Why are you doing this?!”

Matt stayed silent, which only seemed to infuriate Gavin, “Is it some sort of act of envy? Is that it? Are you jealous of me?!”

Silence and then-

_ “You Fakes are all so self absorbed. Open your minds to think beyond your little party for once.”  _ Matt laughed to himself again, shaking his head in disappointed,  _ “Have a fun time on the roof, Gavin. There are two exits on this roof and one of them is locked. Try and figure out the other one.” _ and then the screen when to black.

Gavin yelled in frustration, grabbing one of Jack’s pistols from her holster and shooting the laptop directly at it’s screen, shattering i t to pieces. H e screamed and screamed at the laptop, his face hot with deep anger, emptying bullets into its now non existent screen. Jack flinched away and yelled at him to stop, backing away from him to get out of the blast radius. Gavin was furious, not just with Matt or the situation, but with himself for leading everyone into the traps that were carefully laid out for them. 

When the gun clicked to signal that it was out of bullets, Gavin growled and threw it to the other side of the roof. “Gavin,” Jack said inching towards him and putting a hand on his shoulder only for it to be slapped away, “You need to stop this!”

“Fuck it, Jack! Fuck it all! What the absolute, bloody, cock, wank, dick, fuck, shit,  _ bollocks  _ are we supposed to do now, Jack?! Ryan and Michael aren’t responding, we’re locked on the roof and Jeremy and Geoff are the next ones to fall into the trap, that’s assuming they haven’t already! Just-” Gavin let out a strangled scream and kicked his legs out in pure, unfiltered anger. Jack watched helplessly unsure of what to do. 

They were trapped. Well and truly trapped.

_ “There are two exits on this roof and one of them is locked. Try and figure out the other one.” _

She looked to the edge of the building, already figuring out Bragg’s sick joke.

It was a long way down .

* * *

 Rimmy Tim fiddled with his radio and clipped on on the waist of his trousers, “Should we radio in, and tell them we’re almost there? Just to give an update?”

Geoff raised an eyebrow at him as he turned the car into a dark alleyway, away from the bustle of the main street. “Shouldn’t until we have progression in the case, don’t wanna radio for useless updates.”

_ Useless-  _

Rimmy Tim flushed a little at getting shot down so honestly, but that was the difference between a few months and a decade of experience, he supposed. When Geoff had said they they would be working together, Jeremy had been shocked but immediately accepted the call to action. Geoff, in missions, usually stuck close to Jack or Michael. But he had sent them off to do other, equally important things. And that left Jeremy, as Rimmy Tim, next to the Kingpin. 

As they made their way to an unknown destination, Jeremy had thought about what exact Geoff meant by contacts. Ex-convicts? Old partners? Lowlives of the criminal underground? All was possible. The Fakes maintained a monopoly on being the only major syndicate in the City and all of that was thanks to Geoff’s work. Instead of casting low level criminals away, and telling them to stay out of his City, he instead befriends them. A network of criminals who are all loyal to him. It was incredible. Jeremy admired that.

They parked in the alleyway and Geoff looked out of his window.

“They should be in here.” he said, gesturing to a tall and plain red brick building across the street from where they had parked the SUV. It was incredibly dull and to be honest, Rimmy Tim was a little underwhelmed at the sight of it. He couldn’t help but feel it was a little… a little…

“It’s a bit boring.” Rimmy blurted out and immediately wanted to retract his words with the look that Geoff gave him, “I mean. Building full of dangerous criminals, thought it would have a bit of” he wiggled his fingers, “Pizazz. You know?”

“...”

“...”

“Get out of the car.”

“Right. Sorry.”

The both climbed out of the car and headed towards the trunk, Geoff opening it to reveal a rather impressive array of weaponry and ammunition. Rimmy almost salivated at the sight of all the firepower and yet, Geoff picked one simple handgun and gestured for Rimmy to do the same. “Shouldn’t we carry some more? These guys could be dangerous.”

“If we show up to their base of operations carrying as many firearms as we can carry, they won’t let us see the inside of the building. We aren’t here to fight, we’re here to talk.”

“Aren’t they your friends?”

“There’s no such thing as  _ friends  _ to them. Just who they are and aren’t loyal to at that moment.”

Rimmy looked at him in concern, “Are we one of the people they’re loyal to?”

“Let’s find out.”

They crossed over to a tiny makeshift door made from metal sheets and plastic scaffolding nailed together into a door. Geoff looked around before rapping his knuckles four times on the door in a pattern. After a few seconds of silence Geoff did the knock again and waited. It took three tries for Rimmy to finally hear movement from behind the door.  _ “Who is it?” _

“The Kingpin. Let me in, Cerberus.”

The man behind the door who Geoff not so lovinging referred to as ‘Cerberus’ grunted loudly,  _ “Who’s zat?”  _ Rimmy jolted when he realised the hidden man could see him.

“A friend. We’re here to see her, I know she’s back in town.”

_ “Miss ain’t happy you’ve been ignorin’ her.” _

Geoff held up his hands, gesturing to his own body, “Well, I’m here now.”

Another grunt and the door screeched open, making Rimmy break his cool facade to wince and slap his hands over his ears. “Jesus Christ, invest in a real door for fuckssake.” he muttered to himself. Geoff shushed him and led him into the building.

It was about what you would expect from a place like this. There was a pool table being used as an actual table with old take out containers left scattered on the top. Wires upon wires covered the floor going towards all sorts of tech; computers, televisions and a few radiators. There was hardly any sort of sign that showed  _ who  _ exactly works in this building. No identifying posters or belongings at all. Rimmy was so curious to know who or what he was about to be shown. Geoff seemed to know where he was going and led him to the far corner where there was a staircase leading up to the next level. Rimmy followed behind, his heart thudding from sudden nerves. He knew he could trust Geoff but all this hush hush was making him paranoid.

They made their way to the second floor which was a hallway that led off into office type rooms, “Just down here,” Geoff told him, gesturing the the door directly at the end of the hallway. “That’s her office.” Rimmy took the lead and walked ahead towards the door. He paused just outside it as he could hear whoever was inside humming to themselves, it sounded like a woman. Rimmy looked at Geoff for the all clear and he nodded, so Rimmy knocked on the door. 

_ “Come in.” _ came the voice.

Rimmy opened the door to a clean, white walled office with red accents, a large black desk in the center of it and a huge red desk chair facing away from them so that they couldn’t see who was sitting there.

“Geoff, what a lovely surprise.” came a sweet voice dripping with venom.

“Nice to see you too, Lindsay.”

_ Lindsay?  _ Rimmy thought to himself,  _ Lindsay Jones… Michael’s wife? _

The chair spun around and Jeremy felt himself take a step backwards in fear, all facades dropped in an instant. In the chair was none other than the woman who had attacked him in Boston all those months ago. He looked between Geoff and the woman unsure as to what was happening.

“What is this?” he asked, voice cracking and giving away his fear.

Geoff stared blankly at him while the wom an -  _ Lindsay -  _  just  laughed, “Oh, how I have missed that face.” 

She grinned, cat-like, at the scars littering his face - the scars  _ she _ had put there.

“Try not to play with your food.” Geoff said suddenly moving past Rimmy and into the office, his back to him.

Jeremy couldn’t understand what was happening, what was Geoff  _ doing? _

“Geoff…?”

His boss turned back to him with a blank expression, and clocked him with the butt of his gun, making Rimmy’s world go black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything changes now. Don't get too comfortable.


	10. Chapter 10

_“Stab the body and it heals, but injure the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime.”_ _  
_ **_― Mineko Iwasaki_ **

* * *

_Hey there, you with the stars in your eyes._

_Love never made a fool of you._

_You used to be too wise._

A deep male voice woke him from his slumber, the crooner’s words slipping into his ears and sticking to his brain like honey. Jeremy’s cracked one eye open, only to be greeted with darkness. He was blindfolded, why? Where-?

_Hey there, you on that high flying cloud._

_Though she won't throw a crumb to you._

_You think someday she'll come to you._

The voice was coming from a phone, Jeremy thought. The audio wasn’t perfect and had a grainy quality to it, muffling the man’s voice ever so slightly. In addition to that, the song itself was old. Like something from an old movie. He winced as a sharp flash of pain shot through his head. He let out a weak groan in pain, his voice scratchy and dry. There was a rotten smelling gag in his mouth, pushing against his tongue, making it hard to wet his mouth. What was going on…?

And then, like lightning he remembered.

Geoff.

Betrayal by his saviour, it seemed too poetic to be real. Hot, shameful tear stung Jeremy’s eyes, wondering how he hadn’t _seen_ it. How every smile and laugh was faked, to what? Get Jeremy close? Use him? He felt disgusting. Jeremy’s head lulled to the side and he groaned, if only he had seen it sooner.

_Better forget her,_

_Her with her nose in the air._

_She has you dancing on a string,_

_Break it and she won't care._

A door opened and suddenly a familiar voice started speaking. “Wake him up. We need to get started, we only have a few hours until-”

“I know, Geoff. Bragg is doing everything he can to-”

_And that woman…_

“Lindsay. That was an order.”

_Lindsay._

She seemed to pause for a moment before Jeremy heard her making her way towards him. His back tensed as he felt her hands come up behind his head and untie his blindfold. As the fabric slipped away from his eyes he winced at the sudden light, his eyes much too sensitive from being in the dark. He slowly started to become aware of his current situation. His arms were bound behind his back, forearms strapped together and hand tucked next to his elbows. His legs were bound to the legs of the chair he was sat in and various other knots had been made around his body just for extra measure to make sure that he isn’t going anywhere.

The next thing he noticed was that his whole body _ached._ His head was burning, a new deep cut had been made on his forehead, probably from the initial blow of Geoff’s gun. But other than that he had violent rope burns on every part of exposed skin, which was a lot as they must have stripped him down so that his Rimmy Tim costume was gone and he was left in his underwear and undershirt. He also had a dirty rag shoved down his throat, a secondary rag tied around his head to keep it in, making Jeremy gag. He slowly blinked his eyes into focus and he immediately made eye contact with Geoff over Lindsay’s shoulder. His stomach flipped over at the sight of him, and he quickly darted his eyes away to focus on Lindsay instead.

_Will you take this advice_

_I hand you like a brother?_

_Or are you not seeing things too clear?_

_Are you just too far gone to hear?_

_Is it all going in one ear_

_And out the other?_

“It’s nice to see you awake, Mr Dooley.” Lindsay lilted, sweetly. She kneeled by his side and looked up at him, smiling warmly. “It’s been a while since we last spoke, did you forget me?”

Jeremy narrowed his eyes at her, but stayed silent.

She tilted her head in curiosity, her ever present smile turning into more of a cruel smirk, “What did you do to him, Geoff? He was so _loud_ when I first met him. Did you beat it out of him?”

“I never touched him,” Geoff spat, like it was an insult.

Jeremy flinched.

Lindsay looked between the two of them and furrowed her brow. Sighing, she stood up and made her way over to Geoff. “Talk to him.”

“What?” Geoff hissed at her, eyes narrowing into slits. She looked unfazed at this behaviour.

“Talk to him, that’s what bad guys do. Exposition drops. Monologuing. That’s what _villains_ do.” she told him, her voice friendly and calming. She reached over to a table that was pressed against the back wall, and picked up a phone. She tapped away at it until the music stopped short, sighing at the silence, “I usually work with a soundtrack but you have more important things to do.”

Geoff looked at Jeremy with distaste, and Lindsay pushed him towards where Jeremy was sat. “Go. You two have things to discuss. I’ll check up on how the rest of the team are doing. The Twins should be finishing up soon.” She gave Geoff a small wave as she headed for the door, phone in hand, and gave Jeremy a cold smile as she walked out of the room.

There was a tense silence between the two. Jeremy stared intently at Geoff, while the other man simply sighed and rubbed his temples as if the whole situation was giving him a headache. He made his way over to a discarded chair and picked it up, standing it upright and wiping at the seat, cleaning it. He sat down and leaned back, crossing his arms and giving Jeremy an impatient look.

“Do you have any questions?”

Gagged, Jeremy couldn’t reply, so he instead just nodded furiously at him. Geoff let out a long, suffering sigh. “Of course you do.” he muttered, more to himself than to Jeremy. “I never…” Geoff started before trailing off. “What do you know about Narvaez?”

_Narvaez?_

* * *

_“Why’d Ray go alone?” a much younger Gavin asked, swiping the ends of his long hair out of his face. “I coulda helped.”_

_Geoff smiled at the boy, “You make too much noise, you can’t help but stand out. He’s better on his own.”_

_“Y’hear that? Geoff said you’re loud and annoying.” Michael snorted at him. He was so young then, too. His face soft and jaw less defined, brown freckles peppering his face._

_“He did not!”_

* * *

 

Geoff must have seen Jeremy’s confusion because he furrowed his eyebrows at him, “He died. A few years ago now. Just on a simple solo mission, someone shot and killed him.”

He stood up suddenly and walked over to the table, picking up a newspaper there, staring at the front page intensely, “He was just a kid. Younger than he should have been. Killed doing something he should have never gotten involved with.”

* * *

_“Geoff.”_

_The City was warm that night, the humidity making Geoff’s brow sweat. It was too warm for how cold he felt._

_“He’s gone.” Jack sobbed behind him, her voice wavering with emotion. He turned around and saw how desperate she looked, how wrought with sorrow she was. All Geoff felt was uncomfortably warm, it was too damn warm. Geoff walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she wailed, her hands coming up to grab at his back, pressing him even closer._

* * *

Geoff walked over to Jeremy, newspaper in hand and showed Jeremy the photo taking up the majority of the front page. It was a familiar photo to Jeremy, a candid of Geoff mourning Ray taken by a passerby. It was famous, and one that appears nearly every time you Google the Fakes. “It took me a while to figure out what had happened. No one should have seen him. He was always good at hiding, of getting into places unseen. It’s why he went in alone. And yet-”

The headline, clear as day, _‘Narvaez confirmed to be dead’._

“So much crime in this city, so much we don’t know about, so much out of our control.” Geoff mused quietly, “But this? We should have seen this coming. This was an _attack._ ”

* * *

_“An attack?” Lindsay asked, confused. Her hair was red now, bright and dangerous. Women always seemed to change their hair when their lives changed. He had never noticed that before. The bright wedding ring on her finger was new and foreign to her, the weight of it still unfamiliar, but not unwanted. “Geoff, Ray was killed by the owner of the building-”_

_“Except the owner wasn’t around that night. He was on the other side of town, so why is he claiming that he shot Ray in self defense. Someone’s paying him to stay quiet, and to direct attention to him, instead of who’s really at fault.” Geoff fumed, pacing up and down her office, “This was planned. But by who?”_

* * *

Jeremy watched as Geoff turned the paper back towards himself, his eyes softening automatically at the sight of the image. “And it took me a while. I used the collective B Team’s efforts to help me find the culprit. And then, one day, we found them.”

His eyes flicked over to Jeremy and he sneered, “The Dooley Clan.” Jeremy felt his heart sink.

_No._

“See, the Dooley Clan has had their eyes on this City for as long as we’ve known them. We had a shaky truce at the time, only held together by Michael and Ray’s connections to the East Coast. They would help us when we needed manpower and we would pay them handsomely. But it seems like they didn’t want to be mindless thugs any more, and got too bold.”

Geoff looked at him with unfiltered hatred, “You look so much like him, did you know? Your father. You take after him in so many ways. Your ability to ignore the pain you cause is _just_ like him.”

* * *

_“From all of us here, we are all so deeply sorry for your loss.” he said, brown eyes sadly watching Geoff from behind his webcam, “Is there anything we Dooley’s can do in your time of need? Narvaez was only a few years older than my youngest- I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through.”_

_Geoff watched the head of the Dooley’s from behind his computer, the video call feeling phoney. “Thank you we’re… we’re managing. His death was a tremendous loss.”_

_The man’s eyes glinted on the screen, “You always have a friend here with the Dooley’s, Ramsey.”_

* * *

“Ray’s death hurt us, is _still_ hurting us. There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t find myself thinking of him. About what I could have done differently, to get a different ending. But you can’t focus on the ‘what if’s can you?” Geoff told him, eyes distant as he spoke, “So, we put this plan into action.”

Jeremy’s heart thudded against his chest, “It was an eye for an eye situation. My youngest, for theirs.” Geoff settled his gaze onto Jeremy, no emotion behind those grey irises. “But then, you escaped right into the heart of my City. Right under our noses. We would have killed you the moment you arrived but Gavin found you almost immediately. And Jack suggested we bring you in, and-”

Geoff let out a sad laugh, only now showing genuine emotion at the mention of his family, “I hadn’t seen them like that in _so long._ Excited, and happy, and open. They were so willing to let you in. Why wouldn’t they be? You were just like them. A runaway with no hope.”

* * *

_“Geoff, what was the name of the Dooley Clan member who went missing a few weeks back?” Gavin asked from where he sat in the rec room, his laptop perched on his lap._

_“Jeremy Dooley, youngest of the Dooleys.” The Vagabond replied before Geoff could. “Sorry, boss.”_

_The boss raised an eyebrow at Gavin, “What about him?”_

_“He’s in the City. I found him.”_

_“What?!” Michael exclaimed, shuffling over to look over Gavin’s shoulder’s at his screen, “Holy shit. There he is. In plain daylight. Doesn’t he know he’s a wanted man?”_

_“Apparently not.” Geoff said through gritted teeth._

* * *

“And you know? For a moment, it seemed to work. You being a part of the team. The others got along with you and you dealt with the pressure well enough but then-” Geoff let out a cruel laugh, void of any real emotion, “You went and got Ryan _shot._ ”

“It was all too familiar. I was about to lose _someone else_ to a Dooley, because I trusted too willingly. Because I let myself get caught up in the fantasy that maybe you could be one of us. That maybe you could help them.” Geoff fell into the damaged chair again and tilted his head towards the door, “Huh. Lindsay was right, I guess we did need to talk.”

Jeremy didn’t - couldn’t - respond. But even if he could, he wouldn’t have. His mind was spinning at this story. His father and Ray? Geoff sending Lindsay to attack him, to scare him away to hurt his father. If all the players were in place before he even knew about them, then _what_ did he contribute to this story? If he was merely a side effect of his father’s actions...The lingering self deprecating voice in his head was too loud, sneering his overwhelming insecurities at him like they were weapons.

“Jeremy.” Geoff said, his name snaking out of his mouth like an insult. He stood up and walked over to the table, picking up a small, sharp knife. “Before you die, I would like to say thank you. For the short time you were in their lives, you really did help them. But your presence is dangerous, and a threat to their safety and I can’t- I _won’t_ let you hurt them again.”

He turned to face Jeremy, knife brandished, and steadily made his way over to the trapped man.

* * *

_What happened? Try to remember._

Warehouse. Laptop. Twins. Taser. Pain.

Fuck.

Michael lifted up his head and winced at the shot of pain that flashed through him. He opened his eyes and looked around, they were still in the warehouse. Seems like Trevor and Alfredo just wanted to put them out of commission. ‘Them’? _Ryan._

He twisted around to see an unconscious the Vagabond still on the ground and quickly scrambled on his hands and knees over to him. He was in a bad way. He was hunched over in a fetal position, arms wrapped around his stomach. His wound, _fuck._ “Vagabond, _Ryan!_ Are you awake, buddy?” Ryan didn’t reply. Michael put two fingers to the side of his neck and waited for any sign of life. A pulse. Weak, but still there. “Ryan, I’ll get you help don’t worry. I’ve got you, buddy. I’ve got you.” Michael pulled his radio from his jacket and turned it on, “Gavin? Jack? Do you copy? This is Michael. We’ve been attacked, Ryan is critically injured. Anyone?” He listened to the static and paused. No reply. _“Fuck!”_

Michael was alone.

He breathed deeply to calm himself and looked around. He had to get them out of here, they were gonna be in far more shit if some pedestrian comes by and sees two wounded Fakes, struggling for life. To the car then, which was five minutes away. Great, awesome. Okay, so. Plans. He examined the wounded area and noticed that the blood and soaked into his clothes and now that it was dry, it was acting as a cover on the wound, the hardened blood stop any fresh blood from coming out. That was fine. Michael could deal with that.

He just had to put pressure on it and get him to the car.

Easy peasy.

He shrugged off his jacket to tie it around Ryan’s waist, using it to apply pressure to the area, and also to prevent any bleeding, should it start up again. Michael carefully lifted up Ryan’s heavy torso, pushing one arm of his jacket under Ryan’s back so that he could get the jacket around the waist, tying it in a double knot. He slung Ryan’s arm around his shoulder and heaved him up with difficulty, Ryan’s full weight slumping against him, _“Why couldn’t you have been Gavin?! That boy weighs as much as a paperweight!”_ Michael yelped, struggling to carry the six foot dead weight.

Slowly, but surely, Michael staggered over to the entrance of the warehouse. He steadied his breathing and adjusted his grip on Ryan a few times, each time assuring Ryan that they were almost there and that Ryan would be okay.

Ryan was wheezing against him. His soft, barely there breaths a constant in Michael’s ear. He tried not to think about how much pain his friend was in, instead focusing on his goal, the entrance getting closer and closer with each passing minute.

“You did this on purpose, huh?” Michael laughed breathlessly, his energy waning with every step, “Getting shot. You just didn’t wanna do any of the work.” He tightened his grip on Ryan and blinked away the sharp pricks of wetness in his eyes. “You’ll be okay, Rye. I’ll take you back to Jack and she’ll fix you up, just like before.”

“You’ll be fine,” he said again, assuring himself more than the barely there Ryan. “I- I’ll get you home.”

Michael’s legs buckled under the weight and he stumbled to the floor, Ryan’s weight falling on him. He gasped at the fall and slammed his teeth together in frustration, “ _Come on!”_ He hissed, his breath, “I-I’ve got you, Ryan. Just- Just hold on, kay? I’ve got you. Hold on, _please._ ”

The tears were coming faster now, thick streams falling down his face and plopping onto the ground where they had fallen. “You’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.” Michael braced himself, and slowly stood up. He re-positioned himself and shifted around some of Ryan’s weight, before heading off again.

“I’m sorry-” Michael gasped, every second dragging out into a lifetime. Ryan’s life dripping away with every wasted and hesitated moment. “ _I’m sorry._ ”

_My fault._

“I should have done something, I just _stood_ there.” Michael whined, his throat catching on his words. He inhaled sharply as his ankle twisted, but he persevered. “I should have- I should have helped you. I’m sorry.”

In the back of Michael’s mind, he knew this was a lost cause.

Ryan’s life was slipping away, Jack and Gavin were out of reach. If Trevor and Alfredo did this to Jack and Gavin too then-

He choked on his breath and stumbled a little.

He couldn’t think like that.

_If we had planned this, we would have taken out the medic first too._

Stop it.

Jack was… Jack was-

Fresh tears fell down Michael’s face. Was she already gone? Even if he did manage to get Ryan back home, would it be for naught? Would he find the two of them dead? Trevor and Alfredo has already gotten to him and Ryan and almost killed them in the process. Would they really be as kind as to spare them? He winced at the mental images that sprung to the forefront of his mind and shook his head. _Stop it. You can’t think like that. Focus on Ryan. Focus on-_

Had they gotten to Lindsay?

_Stop._

The entrance hadn’t gotten any closer.

Ryan whimpered in his arms, and Michael felt his breath leave him at the sound. He snapped his neck to look at Ryan only to see him as lifeless as he had been before, but he _wasn’t_ lifeless. He had made a sound, just a small sound but God was it the most beautiful thing Michael had ever heard. Ryan was still alive, he was still clinging on as stubbornly as he held on to his identity.

A fire was ignited under Michael in that moment. He didn’t have long, but if Ryan could hold on then so could he.

It must have taken Michael at least twenty minutes to carry Ryan the five minute walk back to the car, by the time they reached it Michael was panting heavily and whimpering, his head throbbing again just from exhaustion. They reached the car and Michael propped Ryan up against the door, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him upright, Ryan’s head lolling onto Michael’s shoulder. He shoved his hand into the back of his jeans to fumble with the car keys and unlock the door. Gently, he opened up the back seat and laid Ryan down, pulling off his mask as he did.

God, he looked even worse for wear without the mask. He face was pale and slick with sweat, light brown hair plastered to his forehead and matted down from the mask. Any sign of life had disappeared from his face, only leaving a shell in his place. Michael clenched his jaw and gently pushed Ryan into a position that wouldn’t put his wound in danger of bleeding again. Once Ryan was secure in the backseat, Michael closed the door and breathed, where the hell _was_ everyone? He pulled out his radio once again.

“Gavin, Jack, _please._ If you can hear this get back to me. I’m on my way back now, Ryan needs immediate medical attention, just-” he paused pressing the radio against his forehead and shuddering out a breath, tear tracks cold in the night air now that he had stopped crying, “Get back to me, okay assholes?” He put the radio back into his jacket and looked at Ryan in the backseat, unconscious and fighting a losing battle. He swallowed his heart and climbed into the driver’s seat, kicking the car into gear and speeding away into the night.

* * *

They were sat on the edge of the rooftop, looking out at the night sky. Gavin with his knees tucked in, face buried into his legs, and Jack next to him silently thinking to herself. They had been like this since they had been locked up here with no sign of escape or rescue. Jack sighed deeply, looking up at the starless sky, tinted orange from the light pollution of the city. She had never liked waiting, not knowing what was going on at all times. It made her feel like she didn’t have control.

Usually she liked to know about everything before it happened but right now everyone she cared about were scattered, possibly hurt and she couldn’t do anything about it. She thought about Geoff, she thought about the scrawny, big eared kid she had met when she was fresh out of boot camp. He had taken one look at her, back when she still had a beard and nothing about her screamed ‘woman’, and asked her what her name was. And she hadn't known the answer.

_“You don’t know?” Geoff had said, eyebrow cocked in amusement, “How can you not know?”_

_Jack blinked at him, “I- I just… I don’t think my name suits me anymore.”_

_Geoff ‘ahh’ed sagely, like wisdom had been dropped about him, “On the path of self discovery? A name change can do wonders for that, new name, new you and all that. But what do I call you until you find your name?”_

_“You can always call me a friend.”_

_The young man’s eyes brightened and he punched Jack’s shoulders, “Now that I can agree on!”_

It seems crazy to Jack, in hindsight, that they were ever that young. That they both had such big dreams and didn’t care who knew it. Geoff with his bright, enthusiastic nature and smarts. He had always stuck by her. Through everything. The corners of her mouth turned upwards at the thought of that silly boy she had known all those years ago, and how he had matured into someone who demanded respect. She was so proud of him.

“Ryan and Michael should have been back by now.” Gavin said suddenly, breaking Jack out of her thoughts.

“What?”

“It shouldn’t have taken them this long. Something must have happened.” Gavin turned on his ass and jumped down to the roof to pick up his laptop. Jack didn’t say anything but she knew Gavin was right, it had been hours since Gavin told them where to go, there was no way that whatever was there was taking up this much time. Gavin booted up his laptop and typed away at it, open files and software as he went, “Do you remember what car they took?”

Jack thought back “The Fake-mobile, I’m pretty sure. Why?”

Gavin grinned, “Because that means there’s a way to contact them.”

“Are you serious?”

“As serious as a heart attack.” Gavin said, slightly under his breath as he focused, “I’ve been working on modifying the radios pre-installed into our vehicles to be a backup radio that works through a different system. It works over the internet rather than radio waves. I always thought working with radios was a bit old fashioned for us.”

“How do they work?” Jack asked, sitting next to Gavin to see what he was doing.

“It uses my systems,” Gavin turned to her, and thought about how to explain it, “Imagine that we have a homing pigeon that can fly to wherever Ryan and Michael are. The car is their home and our message is the pigeon. The pigeon will _always_ find its way home. I had started fiddling with the equipment during our heist but it’s still just a beta version. Not always reliable. That’s why it’s only installed in the Fake-mobile for now!” Gavin beamed childishly at Jack, “Isn’t it cool?!”

“Gavin, you’re amazing!” Jack grinned at him, “Alright, so you can use that to get in contact with them?”

“If they’re driving, then yeah.” Gavin nodded.

“Brilliant! That’s amazing!”

Gavin breathed in deeply and cracked his knuckles, “Alright, now let me work. I need to focus.”

* * *

“How is he?” Lindsay asked, poking her head in the door.

Geoff looked up at her and saw that she had brought the Twins with her, the two of them standing behind her like bodyguards. “Still alive.”

Lindsay walked further into the room and hummed at the carnage. “It’s a good thing we never got that carpet put in. Do you know how much of a _pain_ blood stains are with carpets?”

“Just get a red carpet.” Geoff shrugged. She thumped his shoulder.

“You really did a number on him, boss.” Alfredo whistled in appreciation, walking closer to the mess that was Jeremy Dooley. He was still alive, barely. Geoff had taken his time with him, cutting and slicing and making the man scream himself hoarse. He was slouching now, exhausted, his head drooping down onto his chest, too weak to hold it up.

“Don’t get too close.” Trevor warned him, picking up one of the used knives to inspect it, “He’s dangerous.”

Alfredo raised an eyebrow at his friend, “He’s practically dead, man.”

“ _Practically_ dead.” Lindsay repeated, looking at Geoff. “Why are you taking your time with this? He should be dead right now.”

“Consider this therapy.” Geoff replied curtly, making Lindsay raise an eyebrow at him.

Alfredo drew closer, taking in all of the intricate cuts Geoff had carved into Jeremy’s skin, like hundreds of red tattoos. Trevor watched from behind him, quietly placing the knife he had been examining down. “It’s a shame he has to die, he seemed so nice when we spoke.”

“Alfredo-”

“And that old lady too,” he mused, voice light, “She was nice too.”

Jeremy suddenly growled and swung his head forward, headbutting Alfredo and making him yelp and stumble backwards. All at once, everyone in their room had their guns aimed at him. “You _bitch!_ ” Alfredo shrieked and backhanded him across the face. Jeremy didn’t even feel it, he had been wanting for one of them to get close. Though his enjoyment at the sight of him with an already bruised forehead was short lived as the headbutt had also resulted in the cut on his forehead from Geoff’s gun, which had closed up with congealed blood, burst open causing the blood to start streaming down his face again. He blinked the blood out of his eyes and smirked. Worth it.

“You _were_ warned.” Geoff said disapprovingly and sighed at the sight. “Pull yourself together. All of you.”

Trevor’s eyes were dangerously dark as he slowly lowered his gun, and pulled Alfredo towards him. “You’d better hope that you die from your injuries, cause if not? I’ll kill you myself.”

“Trevor.” Lindsay said, her tone friendly but her face as dark as thunder. “You heard him.”

The man clenched his jaw and dipped his head in a silent apology, “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Leave us.”

The Twins both nodded sharply, Alfredo’s forehead already bruising, before turning towards the door and heading out.

“Oh, Trevor.” Geoff said, as they were leaving. “How are Michael and Ryan?”

Trevor looked at him, and smiled, “They’ll live.” And with that, headed out of the room.

There was a pregnant pause after they left and Lindsay let herself shudder out a breath. Trevor and Alfredo never liked to leave witnesses, but with Michael being Lindsay’s husband they were forced to work under different rules. She was grateful, but her heart lurched at the thought of how scared he must be right now. Once everything was explained, she was sure that he would she why she did what she did. But until then…

“I got in contact with the Dooley Clan while you were,” she thought, “working.”

“And?”

“They’re desperate for him back, you were right.”

Geoff hummed, “What was their highest offer?”

“Eighty-two.”

“Eighty-two million for his highness's _son_?” Geoff scoffed, disgusted, “They’re not that desperate if they’re settling for eighty-two. Get back in contact with them.”

Lindsay nodded, already pulling out her phone, “I can maybe push them to ninety.”

“How’s Bragg handling all this media attention?”

“As well as he can,” Lindsay told him, smiling at the thought of how excited Matt had been to work on this mission. “Which is to say, he’s handling it very well.”

“Excellent.” Geoff nodded distractedly, “And the media’s lapping up everything we’re throwing at them, of course.”

Lindsay spared a look behind her at Jeremy who was just out of earshot and couldn’t hear what they were saying, “You need to finish up here, Geoff. We need to get to the final phase before the night’s end.”

Geoff paused, and looked down, “I know.”

“ _Do_ you know that?”

“Of course I do.” Geoff insisted quietly, looking back at Jeremy, “I’ve just wanted this for too long to be quick about it.”

Lindsay sighed, but she knew where he was coming from. “Just- wrap it up soon, okay?” She placed a friendly hand on Geoff’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

* * *

Michael drove and drove, fingers tapping against the steering wheel restlessly. He looked in the rearview mirror at Ryan and noted that he hadn’t moved or stirred at all this whole time. It made Michael nervous. If Ryan was whining, if he was shaking, if he was puking, if he was screaming in pain, Michael could handle that but this? This complete lack of movement, shallow barely there breaths and peaceful expression… It looked too much like he was-

He looked away quickly and kept his eyes on the road. He would be fine. He had to be. He needed to be.

_“-chael?”_

He jumped and looked at the car’s radio that had turned on by itself, underlying sounds of some crappy pop song could be heard, but mostly it was just loud static. Michael stared at the radio in confusion and tried lowering the volume. No difference. He didn’t even know if the car radio was even _on._

_“-hear me? Michael?”_

_Gavin?!_

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit- Gavin! Gavin, is that you?!” Michael asked, almost yelling in pure relief that someone else was there. “Can you hear me? Gavin!”

_“-can’t hear me. Jack, raise the-”_

“Gavin! I can’t hear you! It keeps dropping but I can hear you, holy _fuck_ , I can hear you!” he laughed and slapped the steering wheel in excitement, looking back at Ryan. _You’re gonna be okay, buddy._

_“Michael! Michael, is that better?”_ Gavin asked, voice much clearer now.

“Yes! Yes it is!” Michael laughed triumphantly, his voice thick with emotion, “Holy _shit_ , am I happy to hear your voice. Dude, where were you guys? I tried the radio but there was no response!”

_“Our end was cut off, our radio signals were blocked so we went to the roof to sort them out but we were tricked and now we’re trapped up here! It was Matt Bragg, Michael. The guy who works with Lindsay? He did this!”_

Michael felt a pit in his stomach, “We were attacked too, by Trevor and Alfredo. They tased both of us and the tension ripped Ryan’s wound open. He’s… He’s not looking good. He has a weak pulse and I’ve done what I can but Jack _needs_ to fix him.”

_“What- The Twins?! Is Ryan going to be okay?”_ Gavin asked, voice high in concern.

“I… don’t know. I hope so.”

Jack’s voice came through, they must have been listening to Michael together, _“Michael. Think about this. Matt, Trevor and Alfredo. That’s nearly all of B Team. You don’t think Lindsay-”_

“No. Jack. She couldn’t be.” he said, cutting her off, “I would have known.”

_“Michael…”_ Gavin said and trailed off, obviously thinking the same thing as Jack, _“If we were attacked by Matt and you were attacked by The Twins, it’s only logical to think that Lindsay is gonna attack-”_

_“-Gavin.”_ Jack cut him off. _“We need to focus on Ryan.”_

_“...Right.”_

The pit in Michael’s stomach felt heavier and he turned the car around to get to a shortcut, “I’ll be with you guys soon. ETA about 3 minutes, Jack I’m gonna run up to you guys first and then bring you down to help me bring Ryan up to your room, he’s a heavy mother fucker.”

_“Sure. See you then, Michael.”_

“See you.”

The radio went silent and Michael continued to drive, his mind racing. He looked in the rearview window at Ryan again and furrowed his eyebrows. _She couldn’t have…_

* * *

Gavin put his laptop to the side and looked up at the satellite dish, “Alright, now to deal with this thing.”

“What part of it is blocking the radio waves?” Jack asked standing up as well to look around for any sign of tampering to the equipment, “It must be something on the roof.”

“Should be.” Gavin agreed and tilted his head, “One of these things is not like the other.”

The dish itself looked as intimidating as ever, but Gavin couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Until his eyes noticed a small foreign device attached to the side of the dish’s base. And when he said small he meant small enough to fit into one’s hand comfortably. Gavin tapped Jack’s side and pointed up at it, “Nice eye.” Jack commented and looked around, “How do we get to it? It’s pretty high.”

“I could probably climb up there.” Gavin thought to himself and Jack looked at him incredulously.

“Are you a maniac? You’ll fall and die. No, not happening. Next idea.”

“I could do it! See how there’s a part that sticks out right there? I could step on that and get to it.” Gavin assured her, trying to convince himself.

He went forward to go and do just that but Jack pulled him back. “Idiot, no. Let’s think of a different way. Could you get on my shoulders maybe?”

Gavin snorted, “Yeah cause getting on your shoulders is _so_ much safer.”

“Fine, asshole. Get up there and kill yourself.” Jack said throwing her hands up in annoyance and plopping down on the floor to watch him.  “Go on then.”

Gavin lifted his chin and furrowed his eyebrows, considering how to go about it. He climbed up onto the base, his limbs already sticking out awkwardly as he tried to gain some sense of balance. He then reached up towards a piece of metal he could use as a grip to pull himself up higher. Jack shook her head. _Idiot._

He slowly but surely made his way up the dish and careful reached his arm out to grab at the device. After a few attempts, he got a hold of the device and yanked at it. “It’s stuck on!” Gavin yelled down to Jack.

“Pull it harder!”

“I am pulling it!”

“Well do it _harder_ then!”

“Fuck you! I don’t see you helping!” Gavin yelled angrily.

Jack smirked and pulled out her gun, “Oh yeah? Move your hand!” Gavin looked down at her and let out a yelp, snatching his hand away as she lifted her gun and aimed it at the device, firing and blowing it to smithereens.

_“You’re a fucking psychopath!”_ Gavin squawked.

“It worked didn’t it? Here let me help you down.” she offered, jumping up onto the base of the dish herself and reaching out a hand for him. He grabbed it and jumped down, Jack catching him under his arms so that he didn’t hurt himself.

Gavin pulled away from Jack and shook his head. “Maniac. Absolute fucking maniac.” He pulled out his radio from his belt and turned it on, “Michael, you there? We got the radio working,” he shook his head at Jack who just shrugged at him , uncaring, “You here yet?”

_“Yeah, I can hear you.”_ came the swift response, _“Gavin, the whole building is locked, I can’t get inside. The doors to the garage aren’t opening and the street level doors are locked too.”_

Down on the street level Michael pressed his body close to the walls, seriously regretting the choice to put their base right next to a police station. Standing out in the open like that, he was a target for any passing officer. He looked around at the quiet street and pulled away from the wall, running around the corner towards a more concealed alleyway.

_“They’re locked?! Have you tried the back entrance?”_

Michael stopped running and panted, hunching over to catch his breath, “Trust me, Gavin, I’ve checked. There’s no way in.”

_“Fuck, okay. Hold on.”_ Gavin went quiet and Michael used this time to look around. The entrance to the building face the street but it was pretty much dead at this time of night, no one on the streets except for him. Michael started to walk back to the car, Ryan still hadn’t moved once he had pulled up and he was starting to lose his cool. He just needed Ryan to be seen to as soon as he could. Looking around he tried to think of what to do. _“Michael!”_

He clawed his radio from his belt and turned it on, “Yeah, Gav? You find something?”

_“I found a way to put power back into the doors to let you in, should be our best option.”_

“Amazing! How long will it take?” He asked, looking back at the car.

_“About an hour.”_

“An hour?! Gavin, Ryan doesn’t have five minutes left in him!” Michael screamed into the grill of the radio.

_“It’s the only thing I can do from up here, unless you have a better idea?”_

Michael looked directly at the car, “I think I do.”

He ran over to the car and climbed in, not even sparing a look towards the backseat as he turned on the engine and backed up the car. He looked at the front of the building which was covered ceiling to floor and wall to wall in windows and grinned widely, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

_“Michael, what are you doing. Michael? Michael! Tell me what’s going on-”_

He put one foot on the brake and one foot on the acceleration, watching the speed gage go up and up, until he finally lifted his foot off of the break and catapulted forwards and went crashing through the windows with ease and a terrific ‘ _SMASH!’_

_“-Holy fuck! What the hell was that?!”_

Michael looked up and out of the car windows. He was in the building. He sighed and relaxed in his seat, “Nailed it.”

_“What the fuck, you’re all fucking insane. I’m never asking you what your ideas are ever again.”_

“Gav, I’m on my way up to you. Get ready. And uh, send out a message to the police saying that the car was a drunk driver and there’s no need to look into it. We have money to make them look the other way, right?”

_“I’m going to fucking murder you.”_

* * *

Jeremy screamed, and screamed and screamed.

His entire body was shaking and sweating from the pain of it all. For the past twenty minutes or so Geoff had gone over to his table of ‘props’ and had used each one to torture Jeremy with. He was losing, and he was only a third of the way through the table. His entire back, chest, arms and legs had dozens upon dozens of cigar burns where Geoff had a whole box of them and he had lit them one by one, putting them out on his bare flesh, and relighting them until there was nothing left. He hurt. He had nothing left. His throat was raw from his screams. His mind was gibberish, struggling to make any sort of sense in his head.

Geoff was having fun.

He was humming to himself as he worked, like he was working on the finishing touches of his masterpiece. Adding the tiny details that no one would notice but him. He had branded him like a cow, not too long ago. Pressing the red hot iron to the fat of his thigh and permanently marking him like he was a piece of meat. He just screamed. He had nothing left to feel but pain. All the rage he had felt, all the heartbreak he had felt, and all the fear he had felt. It had all left him now. All he had was pain. Pain, pain, pain. White hot, hateful and dangerous. Pain, pain, pain. Let it be over. Please.

He begged in his mind, to anyone who could hear him. To any God who would show mercy, to any guardian angel that could help him through this. To any lost family or friends who were watching over. Help. _Please._

Jeremy mumbled against his gag, and Geoff stopped. He silently reached a hand behind Jeremy’s head and untied his gag, pulling the rags out of his mouth. “What was that?”

_“P-Please.”_

Geoff got into close, looking right through him, “I didn’t hear that, one more time?”

A stuttered breath, _“Please…”_

“Please, what?” he said, voice low.

_“...Help me.”_

Geoff pulled back and smiled pitifully, “We’re way past _mercy,_ aren’t we?.”

* * *

Michael had made his way up to the roof, an axe in his hand (just in case, he was in a strange mood. An axe had seemed appropriate). Once he reached the door to the roof he slammed his fist on it, “Assholes, I’m here.”

He couldn’t hear Gavin’s muffled _“Michael!”_ from beyond the door and he smiled, happy he wasn’t alone. “Stand back, Gav! I’m gonna have to break the door.”

_“Oh sh-!”_

Michael lifted the axe above his head and slammed on down on the door handle over and over until the handle broke off along with the lock and half of the door. “Thanks for that.” Gavin said sarcastically once the door was obliterated and they could step through.

Michael panted but grinned, “No problem. I needed that. Phew!” He reached out towards Gavin and hugged him tight, face pressing in his friend’s shoulder. “You would not _believe_ the day I’ve had.”

Jack stepped through next and she kicked the door with a sigh, “We aren’t going to get the deposit back on that.” She hugged Michael and let herself smile, despite everything.

“Nope.”

They looked at each other.

_“Oh, fuck. Ryan!”_ Michael hurried towards the elevator and the other two followed, Michael turned to Gavin, “You need to go to Jack’s room and set it up so it’s ready for him, we’ll bring him up. Make sure there’s nothing that can get in the way.”

“Sure.”

“Jack-”

“You need me to help you bring him up here. I know. Michael, he’ll be fine. Okay?” she reached out a hand to rub his arm to try and calm him down, “While I’m working on Ryan, y’all need to find out where the _fuck_ Geoff and Jeremy are. The fact that they haven’t gotten in contact is worrying me.”

Once they reached the ground floor Michael and Jack rushed over to where the car was to haul Ryan out of it carefully. Gavin watched them go and pressed the button to take him up to Jack’s floor, once there he opened up the door to Jack’s makeshift hospital room wide and propped it open with a fat book. He then stripped the comforter off of the bed and got rid of the pillows, throwing them to the side. He went to Jack’s walk in closet which acted more as a storage room for all of the stuff he would need for a situation just like this, and pulled out sanitizers, gauze, and the first aid sewing kit and placed them all carefully on the large bedside table. He looked around to see what else he had to do just as Michael and Jack rounded the corner, each carrying Ryan with one of his arms over each of their shoulders.

They lay him down on the bed and Jack pulled out some large scissors that she had in her bedside drawer to cut off his clothes, being mindful of the clothes surrounding the wound that were stuck to his skin from the blood and Michael’s jacket that was still wrapped around his waist. Jack worked quickly and quietly, her brow furrowed in concentration, she turned to Gavin, “I need warm, _not_ hot, water. Stat. And some towels!” Gavin nodded and ran off to find the items.

“Is there anything I can do?” Michael asked, feeling useless.

“Put your hand here, on the knot of your jacket. We have to keep the pressure while we’re clearing away the clothes. I’m going to need to take your jacket off of him soon, and when I do, place your hands where the knot once was and keep the pressure until I tell you, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

“Hey.” Jack said, noting Michael’s pale face, “He’s gonna be fine. You can do this, Michael.”

Michael looked up at her and smiled gratefully. He wasn’t sure how any of the Fakes could be here without her.

Gavin ran back in, carefully balancing the bowl of warm water he carried with him and handed Jack the towels. She thanked him quietly and got to work. She undid Michael’s jacket and pulled it away, Michael instantly putting his hands down to apply pressure as Jack had said. She got one of the clean towels that Gavin had gotten and dunked it part way into the warm water, “Gavin we’re going to need a lot more of these, could you-?”

“On it.”

She nodded in thanks and gently rubbed the towel over all the dried blood on Ryan’s chest, near his wound, “We have to wash away the blood before we can do anything but we can’t just pull off the shirt like a bandaid, it’ll ripped off some skin and activate the bleeding again and-” she swallowed, looking around at all the blood already getting everywhere, “he can’t lose any more blood.”

Michael felt a lump rising in his throat but he swallowed it down. He had to be strong. For Jack. “Right. Yeah.” Jack continued her work, slowly wiping away all the blood. Gavin came back in at some point with a whole armful of towels (he must have gone to every bathroom and kitchen in a three floor radius) but stopped short at the sight of all the blood, Jack thanked him for the towels and he dropped them next to her, his face pale. He excused himself to go and find Geoff and Jeremy, unable to stay in the room.

At some point the blood on the actual wound started to wet and move away, meaning that the last bits of clothing could come away and they could get to work on the wound itself. The wound was already mostly healed but it was the overworking that had made it split open again, Jack  had said under her breath, one entrance wound was child’s play for her. She took the sewing kit that Gavin had gotten ready for her on her bedside table and went in, asking Michael to hold the skin taut so that she could go in.

Michael couldn’t avert his eyes for whatever reason, the sight of the needle going in and pulling at the flesh was somehow hypnotising. The skin looked _fake_ like it was cheese or putty  or something like that, wet and cold and soft in Michael’s hands. Jack worked, her hands steady and slow. It was amazing to watch Jack work, she was so calm. Even though Michael knew that inside her emotions were a whirlwind, destroying everything in its path. Her focus was unbreakable, pure determination pulling her through this.

She let out a long, deep breath and Michael saw her gently pinch the skin together with each stitch. “Michael, I think he’s going to be okay. He’ll need a lot of blood but it’s why we stole all the blood bags from the hospital, right?” she breathed heavily, finishing off the last of the stitches and tying it off, “You did a great job.”

Michael sighed and released his hands from Ryan’s waist, flopping down to lay on the floor, suddenly exhausted, “Oh thank fuck.” After a few moments he sat up and tiredly looked at Jack, she needed to focus. “Jack, is it okay if I check on how Gavin’s doing? If you don’t need anything else from me?”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off of her work, so he stood up and walked out of the room. When he was alone in the hallway he quietly put his hands to his face and breathed. He needed to stay strong and get through this night. There were still people counting on him to be strong.

He found Gavin in the rec room, typing away at his laptop but his eyes blank and distant. “Hey, Gavin.” he greeted him softly, unsure of how Gavin was holding up. Gavin jumped in his seat and looked up at Michael and he was suddenly struck with how fucking _young_ Gavin looked in that moment. He swallowed the lump in his throat again and sat down next to him, “How are you?”

“That doesn’t really matter does it, not when we have no idea where Geoff and Jeremy are.” Gavin said, his voice dark.

Michael watched him, “You’ll find them. You always do.”

“But what if I don’t?” Gavin said, suddenly coming to life, “It feels like this whole day has been going on for weeks, how was it only ten hours ago that the new broke? How has all of this happened so quickly?”

Michael didn’t reply, just listened. He knew Gavin just needed to vent right now.

“Do you ever think about your life before the Fakes?”

_I’m leaving for work and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll be gone when I get back._

“No.” Michael lied.

Gavin sighed and hunched his shoulders, “I do. Sometimes. I think of my home, my family, my friends-” he choked on his words and stopped.

Michael just watched him.

“It was simpler then.”

“When you were on the run for murder?” Michael couldn’t help but say.

“Manslaughter.” Gavin corrected and looked up at him. Gavin’s eyes looked wet, the greens of his iris’ looking murky like a lake, “I couldn’t have known that would happen.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“It really was simpler, though. Dreams of working in TV and worrying about GCSEs.” Michael stared at him blankly. “I sometimes wish I could go back to that.”

Michael sat down next to him and jostled him, “Back to being a teenager? No thanks.” he joked lightly, careful not to upset him. “I much prefer being here.”

Gavin didn’t reply but worried his lower lip with his teeth.

“ _I’m_ happy you’re here.” Michael told him quietly.

His friend smiled fondly at him, “I’m happy you’re here too.”

There was a moment of silence and Gavin’s laptop bleeped at him. They both looked at the screen and saw a flashing pinpoint on a map of the city. Gavin looked at it in confusion, “I don’t know where that is.”

Michael stared at it with a blank expression, “I do. That’s where Lindsay’s office is.”

Gavin turned to him, eyes wide. “So she-?”

Michael stood up, not looking at him, “We need to go there, we don’t know- we don’t know what happened.”

“Michael-”

“Let’s just… Let’s just go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left + an epilogue, I'll post a sappy thank you on my last chapter but for now I hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 Posting this after getting back from travelling for 14 hours, but luckily it was all ready to go so I'm posting it now before I pass out. Have a lovely day/night and I'm sorry the story has gotten a bit sad! The song at the star of this chapter is 'Hey There' from The Pajama Game https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NxS95iRcc7A


	11. Chapter 11

_ “The end justifies the means. Sometimes you have to do the wrong thing to get the right result.”  _ _   
_ **_― Sebastian Fitzek, Splitter_ **

* * *

_ “I can hear you thinking.” _

_ It was a quiet night, just the two of them on the base’s roof, staring up at the sky. Michael and Lindsay Jones were sat on a pile of blankets and pillows, their hands interlinked. Michael turned to his wife and tilted his head curiously at her statement, “What do you mean?” _

_ “You. You’re thinking so hard I can hear it,” Lindsay smiled warmly at him, lifting up one hand to stroke a stray curl out of his face. She held her hand at his jaw for a moment, fingers ghosting over his sideburns. His hair needed cutting again, she thought, though she never minded it at this length. “Wanna talk about it?” _

_ “I’m not thinkin’ about much of anything.” Michael mumbled bashfully, lightly ducking his head to press against her hand.  _

_ “Hmm?” _

_ “Just-” he cut himself off, searching for words, “Thinkin’ about us. And this.” he gesticulated lamely and shrugged, “Thinkin’ about the future.” _

_ “Our future?” Lindsay questioned, bring her hand down to her lap. Michael’s cheeks stayed warm from her touch. “Or just in general.” _

_ “Ours. Both.” Michael looked to the sky and let out a weary sigh, “That Dooley kid went missing; he was our age.” _

_ “Younger, I think.” Lindsay informed him quietly, she furrowed her eyebrows at his topic change but didn’t press. _

_ Michael crossed his legs and slumped over, face wrought with concern, “So many people in this job die or go missing every day. In some ways, I count us lucky that we haven’t all gotten killed yet. But-” he choked on his words and gritted his teeth, hands curling into fists. “We don’t know how long that can last.” _

_ “...Michael?” she reached for his arm. _

_ “This job doesn’t have a very long life expectancy.” Michael said, darkly. His eyes lowered and eyebrows twitched, “How are we-?” Michael suddenly lowered his head into his hands, running them over his face and into his hair, “How are we supposed to have a life like this?” _

_ Lindsay frowned, “A life?” _

_ “A normal life, Lindsay!” he looked up at her and she noticed just how tired he looked. His face was pale and dark purple circles had appeared under his eyes, “With a house, and a mortgage, and a dog, and a kid.” He darted his eyes away and sniffed, “Does that stuff not matter to you?” _

_ “Michael.” Lindsay said faintly, “Any life with you is one worth living. I don’t care about the situation. Whether it’s here, or in some quaint middle o’ nowhere town in Maine. Whether it’s with children, a dog or a cat-” _

_ “No cats.” Michael interrupted automatically. _

_ “Or with six cats.” Lindsay insisted. “None of that matters to me, as long as you’re with me.” _

_ They shared a moment of silence before Michael snorted, “That’s so corny.” He reached up and pinched her nose, and she scrunched up her face. “You could write Hallmark cards with all that corn.” _

_ “We were actually having a moment-” she struggled away from his pinches and huffed, “and you ruined it.” _

_ Michael shrugged, suddenly feeling much lighter, “It was too sappy for my tastes.” _

_ ‘Fine, next time I’ll tell you to suck it when you have deep thoughts.” Lindsay mumbled. He pinched her nose again and she wrestled out of his grip, groaning in annoyance. He laughed at her and the night went on, like nothing had happened. Somewhere in the City, a young man with deep cuts on his face was walking through the streets for the first time, looking for shelter.  _

* * *

“I can hear you thinking.”

Gavin’s quiet voice shook Michael out of his memory. He gl anced at his friend as he drove, “Huh?” 

T he City see med to be abandoned, not a soul i n sight. He imagined everyone glued to their screens, watching for updates on the leaks. With more than a hint of bitterness, he thought about how i t must feel to be one of them. To come home to your family and a warm dinner and to watch with eagerness as the menaces of your city were exposed. It must been enthralling.

_ A normal life. _

“What are you thinking about?” Gavin asked innocently, not looking at Michael as he spoke. 

“Does it matter?”

Gavin picked at some dead skin on his thumb, his eyes flickering over to watch Michael drive, taking in his pale knuckles and set jaw. He tilted his head at his friend. His eyes, a murky green in the darkness of the car, seemed to bore into Michael, “It matters to me.”

Michael shot him a dirty look and didn’t reply, making Gavin sigh. Gavin looked away and out at the road, watching as stre et lights passed over head, guiding the way. When they wanted to, the two of them could talk for hours about nothing. Michael could ramble on and on about movies and video games, and Gavin would return in kind, matching Michael’s enthusiasm. But then, the second something weighed heavily in their hearts, and their minds are burdened, they never seek out a confidant. Instead the two of them would suffer in silence and figure it out in their own time. It was frustrating, Gavin knew, but they both ha d solidarity in their need for isolation.

But Gavin wonde red if being  _ alone _ was really what Michael needed right now. He felt his heart yearn for Jeremy, who alway s seemed to know what to say in situations like this. Jeremy… If he was even still-

He shook his head.

He couldn’t think like that.

After Gavin’s software had told them where to go they had parted ways with Jack and Ryan and ran to the Heist-mobile, still in its place after Michael had crashed it through the entrance. Gavin was sitting in the passenger’s seat as the back was covered in blood and Michael, stone faced, was behind the wheel. 

Michael had pulled out of the entrance hall, trying to avoid the glass that was everywhere, and drove away to their destination. Gavin had his laptop propped up on the dashboard, the screen open on some homemade tracking software Gavin had developed a few years ago. A small gold pin blink ed on the screen, marking where they needed to go. As they drove, Gavin gave Michael directions. He felt redundant, though, because Mi chael seemed to already know where to go. The journey must have only been twenty minutes but it felt like they had been driving for hours and hours, the two of them weary and tired.

“Michael, we have to be prepared for any possibility.” Gavin told him suddenly, his voice low but strong, not to be argued with. “Whatever’s there waiting for us… we’ll need to stick together.” Gavin trailed off as Michael’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, nails cutting half moons into the leather. Gavin worried his lip with his teeth, “You know that, right?”

“...I know.”

Gavin breathed in sharply and fiddled with his hands, pulling at his fingers until they popped softly, “We’re almost there.” 

Michael knew where to park once they got there and instantly clocked in on the sight of Geoff’s SUV. “They were definitely here. Your software never fails, Gav. Not once.” Michael said with a somewhat resentful tone. Gavin didn’t say anything. They headed out of the car and Gavin looked up at the building, taking it in. He thought it would look more… imposing.

“This is Lindsay’s office?”

“Second office. This is where she is when she’s doing un-Fakes related work that Geoff gives her. Sending potential enemies to our actual base seemed like a bad idea, so they have this place for meetings, deals and shit.” Michael told him, opening up the trunk of the Heist-mobile, sizing up the makeshift armoury. 

All of their cars, no matter if they took it out for missions or not, were equipped with enough firearms and explosives to take on a small army. It had been Ryan’s suggestion in one of his first months with the Fakes, insisting that danger followed them and that they needed to be prepared for everything. Geoff had agreed immediately.

_ “Danger doesn’t follow us, V. It just flirts with us a little.”  _ Gavin had said playfully.

Michael sneered.

Gavin timidly grabbed a golden pistol that was tucked away at the back, giving it a weary look. Michael reached for his own handgun of choice and slammed the trunk closed. Gavin held his gun like it might explode if he took one wrong step, still uncomfortable with firearms after all these years. Michael wondered if guns had always been that heavy, or if the foreboding atmosphere was weighing it d own. He wa tched Gavin carefully stuff the pistol in the waistband of his jeans, hands jittery on the metal. Gavin was never usually the one to go barrelling into a fight, instead helping from behind the scenes, and that was intentional.

Michael turned towards the building with unease, the pit in his stomach feeling heavier by the second. He didn’t know why but everything about this moment felt very final, like the moments before the curta ins closes on a show - when t he chorus are belting out their finishing notes, all blending together in a gradual, triumphant crescendo. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see Gavin, as always, by his side. The hand was shaking and Michael realised that Gavin was quivering, eyes wide and fixed on their destination. Gavin was being strong so that Michael wouldn’t have to be. Like a true friend. Michael smiled at him, and raised his own hand up to his shoulder, silently thanking his friend. Gavin looked at him and gave him a watery smile, which seemed to say;  _ We’re together on this. _

He nodded and felt the corners of his mouth flicker up tentatively;  _ Always. _

With that affirmation, they both set their jaws and headed towards the makeshift door, Michael rapping his knuckles against the metal with four curt knocks in a pattern. There was a moments silence and the two of them shared a look. Michael repeated the knock, firmer this time. The sound of scuffling feet on concrete behind the door and a deep rumble of a voice announced itself. 

_ “Who is it.” _

Michael lifted his head and looked at the door, staring through the slit where he knew Cerberus could see him. It was all just formality really, he already knew who they were. “Jones and Free, let us in.”

Silence on the other end. The hair on the back of Michael’s neck stood up and he slowly pushed Gavin behind him just in case. Michael pulled out his handgun and clicked the safety off and he heard Gavin do the same. Something was wrong.

More silence.

And more.

Then-

The world suddenly exploded in noise and light. Cerberus kicked the metal panels that made up the door and they clattere d to the floor with ease. He stepped over the panels wielding two huge guns of his own. Without giving Michael and Gavin an y time to react, he started firing at the two of them relentlessly. Michael, the first to act, seized Gavin’s and sprinted towards cover while bullets flew by their heads, pinging off of the brick wall behind them.

Michael pushed Gavin behind a nearby dumpster, throwing himself behind it after, swearing in surprise at the sudden attack. G avin fell to the ground at the shove and yelped, his head slamming against the metal of the dumpster. Cerberus stopped his onslaught once they were out of his sight and Michael heard him reload. Sensing an opportunity, Michael ran out of their cover and ran at Cerberus, hoping to catch him off guard, firing as he went.

Cerberus saw him coming and thrust the butt of his gun at Michael, forcing him to dodge out of the way and run right past him. Swearing, Michael headed around the corner as Cerberus’ fire started up again. Michael panted, adrenaline making his heart thud against his chest. He listened for breaks where he could fire and took blind shots when he could. He could hear Gavin yelling for him in the alley and Michael gritted his teeth.  _ What was that idio _ _ t doing?! _

“Come at me, ya prick!” Gavin yelled at Cerberus, firing a few shots at the man to no avail. Michael peaked around the corner and saw Cerberus lower his guns and grunt, heading towards Gavin.  _ Idiot, stupid.  _ Michael paused as Gavin made eye contact with him, eyes wild. In his distraction, Cerberus had made the mistake of turning his back on Michael. There was an opening. 

Michael spun around the corner and aimed, firing three shots directly at the man. Two of his bullets missed, skirting past his body mere inches away from hitting. His third, however,  made a solid hit directly into Cerberus’ arm. In pain, the beast of a man dropped his gun, the heavy clatter making Michael flinch.

Cerberus reeled around, his eyes ferocious and animalistic, teeth bared as he hissed out in pain. He grunted and aimed his unhurt arm at Michael, ready to fire, when his forehead was split open by a bullet. Cerberus stopped and time seemed to stand still for a moment. After a second the huge man slowly tilted and lost balance, dropping to the ground with a loud  _ thud. _

Behind where Cerberus had been stood Gavin, with his golden pistol raised, smoke from the recently fired bullet rising into the air. His face was a picture of pure shock at his own actions, eyes darting between his gun and the dead man on the floor. Michael and Gavin looked at each other in surprise before a grin slowly grew on Michael’s face, “Holy shit, Gav. Nice one.”

Gavin blinked, “No problem.”

“Good thinking about distracting him.” Michael praised, walking towards Gavin and slapping a hand on his shoulder, shocking Gavin out of his state, “Your methods could use some work, though.”

“Well, I am the brains in this relationship.” Gavin preened, face s till pale.

“Yeah, you keep thinking that,” Michael rolled his eyes, suddenly sick of inflating Gavin’s ego more than it already was, “What were you gonna do if he just shot you point blank, huh?”

“Shut up, I didn’t see you coming up with anything. Running at him head on? Really?”

Michael punched his arm hard enough to give a bruise (Gavin yelped and rubbed at the now throbbing spot) and looked towards the body on the ground. There was already a pool of blood forming around him. It was a shame really, Cerberus had always been loyal and good to have on their side. Though, this just showed that he wasn’t loyal to them as a group and more just the individual. Michael’s light mood from their victory faded and the memory of what lay waiting in the building caught up to him. “Cerberus was waiting for us, they knew that us showing up would be a possibility.”

“That guy had a name?” Gavin asked, incredulous, and then a moment later, “What kinda a name is Cerberus anyway?”

“Don’t you read?”

“No, and neither do you.”

“Fuck off.” Michael said with little jest. He walked over to Cerberus and felt a small pit of guilt settle in his heart, as was always the case with deaths like these. He reached out a hand and closed Cerberus’ eyelids for him before standing up. “We’re not welcome here, which means there’s more waiting for us inside. I d oubt they didn’t hear this shoot out so they have the upper hand. Any ideas?” 

“Head through the front door and hope for the best.”   


“I’m looking for actual suggestions here, Gav.” Michael said, tiredly.

Gavin shook his head and pointed to the busted down door, “I’m serious. Look, if they had resources to spare they would’ve had more than Fluffy the Guard Dog there to keep us out.”

“Fluffy the Guard Dog armed with two huge machine guns.” Michael corrected, squatting to pick up one of said machine guns and feeling the heat of the barrel. “You’re saying you don’t think they have too many people working for them?”

“Small operation, and most of their plan was just to keep up seperated and out of the way. They clearly aren’t looking to actually fight us.” Gavin tucked his pistol into the waistband of his jeans and put his hands on his hips, thinking, “If it’s just the B Team-”

“Which is just a theory.” Michael butted in.

Gavin gave Michael a look and nodded, ‘But if it  _ is  _ just the B Team then we’re looking at less than a dozen people.”

“One less now.” Michael hummed, the body still at their feet.” 

“Exactly. So, if we just go in, take ‘em out one by one. We should find Geoff and Jeremy in no time.” Gavin said with forced enthusiasm.

Michael’s radio crackled to life in his pocket and he pulled it out, “Jack, what’s up?”

_ “BZZZT-- Hey! You guys already there? I got your message.”  _ Jack’s voice sounded through the radio’s tinny speakers though her worried tone couldn’t be mistake. The two of them shared a guilty look.

“We’re sorry we left without you, but you were still working on Ryan and we had to leave immediately.”

_ “That’s alright, I’m just happy we have a lead on where they are. Speaking of the ol’ Vagabond; he’s awake and alive but pissed outta his mind. Basically had to tie him down just to stop him from getting into a car and killing the Twins himself. I wouldn’t wanna be the B Team right now.”  _ she told them with a dark yet humorous tone.

“They were waiting for us, they had their doorman ready to riddle us with bullets.” Gavin told her, leaning into Michael’s space to talk into the radio, “But we managed to get through. We’re heading inside the main building now.”

_ “Do you need backup?”  _ Jack asked, her voice suddenly serious.  _ “I can get there in-” _

“Don’t be stupid, we need you there. In case something happens at the base. And also to keep Ryan company.” Michael ordered her and there was a pause on the other end.

Jack laughed through the radio,  _ “You really suit being a leader you know?” _

Michael’s heart skipped a beat and he clenched his fists, “Shut up, we already have a leader. Don’t promote me just yet.” Another silence and Gavin shuffled awkwardly where he stood and cleared his throat, gesturing to the building, “We need to go.”

A sigh on Jack’s end, and then a quiet  _ “Find our boys, boys.”  _ before the radio fizzled out and went silent. Gavin nudged Michael gently with his shoulder and Michael snapped out of his revere and straightened up. “We should go. Stay on alert.”

They made their way through the now obliterated door and into the main room, which appeared to be empty. They made their way through the room, Michael acutely aware of Gavin behind him as they walked. Michael felt like all of his senses had been dialed to eleven, his eyes twitched and his ears were straining for any sound that would alert them to danger. Their guns were raised, and they slowly but surely made their way across the room. Michael checked their blind spots in the room before confirming that the room was empty, eyes flickering over to Gavin who was curiously examining the documents that had been left on the communal table in the center of the room.

“Michael, come look at this.” he said, fingers tracing over the papers.

“Gavin, we really don’t have the time to-” Michael trailed off and looked at what Gavin had pointed out. “What are these?”

There were dozens upon dozens of newspaper clippings, internet articles and blog posts all printed and collected into one large information pile, all with one common thread.

“Jeremy…?” Michael queried, confused at what he was seeing, “This was all an attack on him? Why?”

Gavin squinted and ran a hand over the papers, flicking through each story, “What would the B Team want with Jeremy?”

There was a crash from upstairs and they both immediately raised their guns in alarm, their hearts thudding in surprise. Michael cautiously made his way over and felt his fingers twitch on the trigger. Clenching his jaw, he walked towards the staircase in the corner. As he approached though he heard Gavin gasp behind him.

_ “Michael, look out--!” _

Something barrelled into his side and sent him flying, Michael ending up on the floor with his attacker hovering over him, grinning maniacally. “Lookie here! I was waiting for y’all to show up!” 

Michael grunted and looked over to Gavin, seeing him on his front, with Alfredo straddling his back, twisting his arm and keeping Gavin firmly in place. He looked up at his own attacker, Trevor, and snarled at him.  _ “You.”  _

“Me?” Trevor tilted his head, pinning Michael wrists down harder, making Michael’s grip on his gun get looser and looser. “This was all very fun, but I think it’s about time that you two leave.”

Gavin whined as Alfredo pinned him down harder, keeping the writhing man as still as he could, “We don’t wanna hurt you. It’s just orders, y’know?” Alfredo said, apologetically. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah, I understand.” Michael huffed in effort, Trevor’s full weight on  his chest winding him. “I understand that you’re traitors!”

Trevor rolled his eyes at him, “A traitor would have murdered you, idiot.”

“We’re under strict orders  _ not _ to murder you.” Alfredo supplied helpfully, “There’s really no beef here.”

_ “You fucking tazed me!” _

“Just following orders, man!” Alfredo exclaimed in lieu of an apology, at least having the decency to look guilty. 

Gavin squirmed under Alfredo’s weight and moved his head to the side, looking directly at Trevor, “What do B Team want with Jeremy and Geoff? What have you done to them?!”

Trevor flat out laughed at Gavin, eyes crinkling in amusement, “I’d have to be a real idiot to spill the plan to you two. What so you can stop us? The deeds already done, fellas.”

“We just have keep you from interrupting.” Alfredo smiled, increasing the pressure on Gavin’s arm, twisting it further and making him whine. “The boss’ll be done soon anyway.”

“Alfredo.” Trevor said in a clipped tone, eyes snapping to his partner, “That’s enough.”

Michael shuddered and shifted his weight, “Yeah. That’s enough of that.” he said, and promptly slammed his knee directly into Trevor’s crotch. The man yelped and fell off of Michael. As he fell Michael lifted a leg up and sent it directly into the man’s face, a sickening  _ crunch _ emitting from the impact.

Alfredo spun around at Trevor’s yelp and Michael scrambled to stand, his gun already up and aimed at him. Once Alfredo was distracted, his eyes fixated on Michael’s gun, Gavin wriggled out of his grasp as his hands went lax around Gavin’s limbs. Standing up, Gavin felt his pistol fall out of its spot in his waistband and clatter to the ground, firing as it fell. Michael flinched at the shot and Alfredo took that opportunity to grab the gun, standing up and grasping at Gavin, pulling him close and pressing the pistol at his temple.

“Shoot me and your boyfriend fucking dies.” Alfredo spat, uncharacteristically dark.

Michael’s eyes twitched as he looked between the two of them, and readjusted his grip on the gun. “You can’t kill us, you said it yourself.” Michael challenged him, his own voice dripping with venom.

“You shattered Trevor’s face, I can claim self defence.” Alfredo taunted, his eyes narrowing at him.

His arm was around Gavin’s neck, pressing into the man’s throat, cutting off the oxygen. Gavin gasped in Alfredo’s grip and his eyes bulged, hands coming up to rip away Alfredo’s arms.  _ “Sh-shoot him!”  _ Gavin wheezed, his face tinged blue already,  _ “Just shoot him!” _

Alfredo squeezed Gavin’s neck even harder than before, “Shoot me and I fucking snap his neck!”

Michael looked desperately at Gavin, and felt a tremor travel through his body. With every second wasted, Gavin’s eyes went more and more glassy. His breaths were coming out in short, fast wheezes. Michael’s hands started to sweat. Gavin looked at him more pointedly now,  _ “Shoot him, now! I’ll be--”  _ He was cut off with Alfredo’s grip constricting once more.

On the ground, Trevor looked up at the scene, his nose crooked and broken, blood pouring down his face. He blinked blearily and reached up at Michael when--

_ BANG! _

Alfredo was launched backwards, a bullet buried fresh in his collar bone. Trevor screeched in horror and Gavin fell out of Alfredo grasp, falling to the ground with his hostage-taker. Gavin let out a large gasp of air as his neck was freed.

“Gavin!” Michael yelped and ran over to him, immediately checking for any damage.

Gavin coughed and sputtered, chest heaving, but thankfully his face slowly started to return to its usual colour, “I d-didn’t have any bullets in my pistol! He c-couldn’t have hurt me!” He wheezed, his voice raspy after being strangled.

“ _ Fuck,  _ Gavin.” Michael breathed and pulled his friend up to his feet and in for a hug. “Don’t do that again.”

There was a low muttering from behind them and they turned to see Trevor on his hands and knees, staring at his downed partner. His hair flopped over his eyes in dark strands, so unlike his usual put together self. His eyes were faraway, focused on the blood pooling around his close friend, “You animals… Should have killed you then… only  _ she _ didn’t want us to…”

Michael tensed and Gavin grabbed onto his arm, preventing him from walking forwards, “Michael, don’t. Leave it.”

Trevor suddenly shifted his focus to them, eyes becoming clearer as his anger rose to the surface, “You fuckers, you  _ shot  _ him!” He stumbled to his feet and wiped the blood on his face away with the back of his forearm, a red smear staining the pristine white shirt he always wore.  _ “I’ll fucking kill you.” _

Michael immediately raised his gun to keep the man at bay, but felt how light the barrel was. It was empty and in need of reloading, but Trevor didn’t know that, they had that advantage at least. “Stay back, asshole.”

“Michael-” Gavin said softly, hand coming up to Michael’s arm, making him lower his gun, “Leave him. He’s hurting.” He turned to Trevor and walked back away from Alfredo, making a clear path for him to get to his friend. Michael turned to Gavin to argue but then saw the way Trevor was looking at Alfredo, like all he wanted to do was protect him and couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man. After all, if that had been Gavin-- If Gavin’s gun still had one more bullet in it… He lowered his gun and stepped backwards too, avoiding Trevor’s eyes. 

“Let’s just go. We’re wasting time.” Michael said, his voice thick. He nodded his head towards the stairs and gestured for Gavin to go first, keeping his eyes on the Twins. Gavin seemed like he wanted to say something, but decided against it, instead ducking his head and walking past him, eyebrows furrowed. Michael waited until Gavin was out of sight before heading up the stairs himself. 

_ “You killed him-!” _ Trevor roared behind him.

All at once, Michael heard quick footsteps behind him and instinctively ducked out of the way, throwing himself out  of Trevor’s path as the man came barrelling towards him. Trevor stumbled and fell against the stairs, climbing to his feet to attack again. His movements were sloppy, fueled by hate and rage, his eyes wild and d angerous. Going in for a second attack, Trevor aimed for Michael’s waist to tackle him to the ground. Seeing this, Michael quickly slammed the butt of his gun down, cracking open Trevor’s cranium with the force and making the man go limp against Michael. Panting, Michael watched in horror as blood spurted out of Trevor’s head rapidly, washing over the dead man’s eyes and mouth. Michael shoved him away and Trevor’s corpse crashed to the ground.  

Gavin came running down the stairs at the commotion and looked at Michael, covered in Trevor’s blood and the body on the ground. “What the hell--?!”

“He attacked me.” Michael told him, attempting to wipe the blood away to no avail, instead just smearing it further. “We need to go, now.” He pushed Gavin up the stairs and away from the scene forcing Gavin to look away from their attackers, and friends, who lay dead on the floor. 

Making their way through the upper floor, they checked each room for any other members of B Team, reloading their guns as they went. “You didn’t have to kill them.” Gavin muttered suddenly, his voice uncommonly dark for such a bright man. “You could have incapacitated them somehow. Shot them in the leg or something.”

“My gun was empty, I did what I did in self defense.” Michael lectured him, annoyed at Gavin’s pretenses, “They would have killed me given the chance.”

“They  _ had  _ the chance and they  _ didn’t _ kill us!” Gavin retorted, voice rising. He quickened his pace to walk ahead of Michael, stopping him in his tracks. “They were our friends, Michael!”

“They were traitors!” Michael roared, furious. Gavin snapped his mouth shut and glared at him, Michael’s eyes burning into his, “Did you forget, or do you not care? Ryan was on his deathbed because of them! Our names are out there because of them! If they did this, if they went through with their orders to sabotage us they were never our friends, and they never cared.” Michael pushed past Gavin, slamming their shoulders as he went.

Gavin grit his teeth and look at the back of his head, “What are you going to do when we find Lindsay?”

“Fuck off, Gavin.”

“Are you really going to kill her, like you killed them?!”

_ “Fuck you!”  _ Michael screamed, turning back and shoving Gavin as hard as he could against the wall. He got into Gavin’s face and hissed out angry breaths through his teeth.

Gavin looked down at him in pity, “You still haven’t accepted it have you? That she’s behind this. You can’t let yourself accept that she  _ lied  _ to you, for months and months she’s been planning this. Those newspapers went back to almost a year ago. All that time she was lying through her teeth and you never even knew.”

“Don’t you dare-” Michael started but Gavin just laughed cruelly at him.

“Does it make you feel stupid, that she managed to keep this all from you? Does it break your heart to know that the person you trusted the most so easily let you get hurt?” Gavin huffed a breath through his nose as Michael’s grip on his arm started to loosen, and he ducked his head. Sighing, Gavin let his head fall back against the wall and blinked away some tears that started to spike in his eyes. “What are you going to do?” he asked again, softer this time, more genuine.

“...I…” Michael started, his voice wrecked, “I don’t-”

The sound out static cut through the air making the two of them jump apart. They spun around looking for the source of the noise only for it to be shut off a moment later with panicked, hushed swearing following it. Almost immediately they turned to face on of the last remaining rooms on the floor, guns raised in anticipation. Michael looked towards Gavin and gestured for him to go first, making his friend roll his eyes. Going ahead anyway, Gavin readjusted his grip on the gun and quietly walked towards the door, listening out for any more noises. No more swearing from inside the room, whoever was in there was hiding now. 

_ ‘Kick. Door. Down.’  _ Gavin signed to Michael, mouthing the words along with his motions. 

Michael nodded and moved in front of the door. After counting down, Michael lifted his leg and kicked directly against the handle. The door splintered from the force and swung open, slamming against the doorstop as it went. They ran into the room searching for the source of the noise and finding one timid, quivering man on the ground next to a computer, his own gun aimed at them.

“Stay back!” he yelled weakly, “I know how to use this!”

Michael hadn’t recognised him at first, the adrenaline clouding his mind, but he was able to place him now. He was a tall man, with shoulder length scraggly hair and glasses, an equally scraggly beard lining his jaw. He wasn’t an intimidating man, but Michael felt pure unbridled rage just by looking at him. This was Matt Bragg. The man who had started all this. The man who had kick this entire nightmare off. Michael tightened his grip on his gun and snarled, striding over to him.

“I said stay back! Stay  _ back! _ ” Matt screeched, hands shaking and gun unsteady.

Michael loomed over him, grabbing a fistful of the man’s shirt and pulling him up until their noses were practically touching. “Matt fuckin’ Bragg.” Michael growled, eyes aflame. Matt whimpered. “Matt.  _ Fuckin’.  _ Bragg.”

“Michael- Michael it was never personal.  _ Michael,  _ please. Don’t-” Matt said, voice pathetic and snivelly. “Please. I wasn’t doing it for me- I was just following orders!” Matt’s eyes looked over Michael’s shoulder at a pale faced Gavin and the man’s expression wavered. Despite his fear, something about seeing Gavin made Matt tense and his expression harden.

“Orders.” Gavin scoffed, “Trapping me and Jack on the roof with no out except suicide? That was following orders? Exposing our identities and risking everyone’s life?  _ That _ was following orders?”

Matt’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, “LIke you know anything about following orders,  _ Gavin. _ When was the last time you actually did anything for this organisation?” 

Gavin stepped forward and furrowed his brow, “So, you exposed our identities… what? Because you’re sick of your workload? You put all of our lives at risk, because of a  _ grudge _ ?”

Matt stared at him, “Being able to finally get you back after all these years was just a bonus, the real prize is watching your faces when you realise what’s going on here.” His eyes travelled to Michael’s and a slither of a smirk appeared on his face, “I mean… Isn’t it obvious? You must know by now.”

The two of them watched him blankly and Matt started to laugh, face contorting in sheer glee at their obliviousness. Michael pulled his gun out, jamming it under Matt’s jaw, immediately shutting the man up. “Tell us right now or I swear to God we’ll be repainting the walls with your fucking brains.” 

Matt gurgled out a word and Michael lessened the pressure, letting him speak more clearly,  _ F-Fuck you.”  _ Michael threw him to the ground and cocked his gun, aiming directly at the man’s forehead. “ _ I’m sorry, please don’t-!" _

“You wanna try that again, asshole?” Michael spat at him, “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t know!”

Michael raised his gun above his head and shot at the ceiling, making both Matt and Gavin jump in alarm. “I said. Wanna try that again?”

Gavin walked behind them, looking over Matt’s computer, taking in his set up. “Matt, answer me this. Your leaks to the press, are you sending them on an automated system or doing it manually?” 

“Like I’d tell you.”

“I mean, I would if I were you. Michael’s got an itchy trigger finger when he’s pissed.” Gavin singsonged, tapping away at Matt’s keyboard, humming to himself as he worked. “So you have a complete copy of my systems? Lovely!”

“What are you doing? Get away from there!” Matt yelled, surging forward only to be pushed back by Michael.

Gavin laughed and continued typing, the constant drum of his fingers on the keys music to his ears, “Here’s the thing, Matt. All my systems whether personal or shared all come equipped with a self destruct feature because, call me paranoid, I always suspected that our systems might have been under attack at some point.” 

Matt’s face paled and a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead. Michael’s heart pounded against his chest at the revelation and despite the tension of that day, he found himself actually smiling as Gavin continued, “So, are your leaks automatic? Or manual? It’s three minutes to the hour anyway so we’ll find out soon. It’ll just save us all some time if you tell us now.” Gavin turned to Matt and gave him a bright smile.

“It’s… It’s manual.” Matt said in defeat, head dropping to his chest.

“Lovely.” Gavin purred, typing in the final commands before hitting the Enter key, the screen turning itself off. “Our current locations are still private.” He announced, proudly propping himself up on the desk, a smug expression painting his face. 

“It’s kinda pathetic.” Michael mused, tilting his head. He tucked away his gun and gave Matt a disinterested look, “To think he did all of that to prove himself and you foiled his plans just like that.”

Matt’s eyebrow twitched and he tightened his jaw.

Gavin sighed and pushed himself away from the desk, admittedly disappointed in how easy it was to beat him, “True, I wish Geoff had trained you more.”

“Trained?” Matt hissed, “What do you mean  _ trained _ ?”

“You really thought they were giving you that work because I couldn’t be arsed to do it myself?” Gavin asked incredulously, “They were giving it to you because that shit is  _ child’s play _ to me. They wouldn’t waste my time with it when I could be working on more complex and important things. They gave that shit to you to toughen you up, Bragg.”

“I was the best hacker in my entire county!” Matt cried in his defense.

“Yes and I’m sure you were great at finding out what torture porn your neighbours watched for blackmail material.” Gavin snapped at him, “But I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the shit the Fakes deal with is far more dangerous and incredibly taxing than whatever domestic drama you were used to back in South Carolina. I used my skills to escape InterPol by the time I was seventeen. Geoff was simply training you to get to the standard I had set, you  _ tosser _ .”

Matt stayed silent and kept his head down, so Michael took the opportunity to ask him a few questions. “Why are B Team doing this?”

“Following orders.” Matt replied, robotically.

“From who?”

No reply.

“From. Who.” Michael repeated, firmer this time.

Matt looked up at them and gave them a sadistic smile, “The boss.”

Gavin’s eyes immediately went to see Michael’s reaction though the man did little more than straighten out his back. “The boss.” He muttered and then, quieter, “Lindsay.”

Matt’s smile grew into a grin and his eyes lit up with barely contained excitement, “Guess again.”

A beat.

Gavin stumbled backwards, his eyebrows furrowed in mistrust, “What did you just say?” he asked, weakly. 

Michael looked between them, confused. “What? Gavin what does he mean? I don’t--?”

Matt tilted his head in mock pity, tutting at them, “You mean you didn’t know? All this time. Isn’t that a  _ shame. _ ”

“I don’t…? What does he mean? Gavin?” Michael frantically asked Gavin, not understanding what was happening.

“Geoff…?” Gavin said, barely above a whisper.

Michael felt his heart dropped down into his stomach, “No. No, we would have  _ known.  _ We would have- Wouldn’t we?”

Gavin stared at Matt who looked back, a satisfied smiled on his face, “The look on your faces really  _ was  _ worth all the trouble, hmm?”

Suddenly enraged, Gavin pulled out his golden pistol from the back of his jeans and lowered it to aim at Matt’s hands that were wringing together in a nervous habit. He fired and the hacker’s hands exploded into splintered blood, bone and flesh. Matt fell back onto his ass, screeching in pain at his mangled fingers, the digits hanging loosely from thing pieces of skin connecting them to his palm. Matt cradled what used to be his hands close to his heart as Michael shot backwards in surprise yelping, both of them staring at Gavin in shock.

_ “My fucking hands!” _

“I’m only gonna ask this once and if you dare make me repeat myself I will destroy your hands even further.” Gavin threatened, his voice low and calm, contrasting the clear fury behind the man’s eyes, “Where. Are. They.”

_ “You shot my fingers off!” _

Gavin shrugged, “And maybe they’ll heal to the point where you can hold a pen. However, your hacking days will be over if you don’t answer me.”

_ “You fucking fag-”  _

Gavin pulled the trigger, cutting him off and sending a bullet into Matt’s head. Matt hurtled back from the force of it and fell to the floor, dead. Gavin sighed regretfully. “I hate it when they don’t comply.”

Michael swallowed and looked pale, “How are we gonna know where they are now?”

Gavin looked at him and smiled nervously, “I already know where they are, I saw the plans while I was destroying his computer. I was just giving him an out. Jeremy and Geoff are--” He froze at the mention of his boss and felt his stomach twist. “Do you think Matt was telling the truth?”

“He…” Michael gave Gavin a dark look, “He had no reason to lie.”

“I had my suspicions. When the plans we found in the entrance room didn’t even mention Geoff, but I never thought that he would--” Gavin’s throat seized up and he let out a choked sob, his face distraught. “He wouldn’t do this to us… he wouldn’t  _ hurt _ us like this.”

Michael thought to Lindsay, who they had yet to find. “Sometimes… the people you love the most are the ones who hurt you first.”

Gavin slumped against a wall and slid down it, eyes closed and mouth pinched into a deep frown. “I want this day to end.”

“I want this day to have never happened.” Michael added, walking over and sitting next to him.

It was night now, and the City would never be getting that promised final update from Matt. Their location and safety was secure, for now. And Christ, had getting tazed in that warehouse only happened earlier that day? Everything seemed to be lasting forever, a never ending day filled with broken families and lost friends. Still, his mind drifted to Jeremy, and how scared he must be. Scared and alone. Michael’s heart clenched.

“We need to keep going.” Michael said, regretfully.

Gavin seemed to share his sentiments and whined a high pitched whine at the back of his throat. “Why? Can’t we just sleep it off. I’m exhausted.”

“Jeremy’s still out there and we have no idea what they’re doing to him.” Michael got to his feet and felt his heart  _ ache _ to be home.

“And he’s all alone.” Gavin added, making Michael smile. He and Gavin were as different as can be but when it came to family, they both knew they had to be there. “There’s an unlisted basement to this building.” Gavin said, struggling to his feet on his tired legs. “Wasn’t on any blueprints I could find so it was illegally made, no surprises there. We must have passed it on our way in.”

Michael turned to him and pulled at his friends shirt, bringing him close for a side hug, “We’re together on this, right?”

And Gavin, the only constant Michael seemed to have, smiled at him and told him; “Always.”

* * *

 

Jeremy wasn’t sure how he was still alive.

He had had so much happen to him. So much pain. So much agony. He had no fight left in him.

Geoff wasn’t a quick worker. He took his time and made sure he did everything just right. He was nearing the end of his table of props now, allowing himself to enjoy making Jeremy suffer for every second he was left alive. Jeremy was shaking, the new blood on his body cooling rapidly and hardening, merging with the old congealed blood. 

The others had left, near the start, only Lindsay remaining. She was working at the back on a tablet, looking bored. He wanted to scream at her to care, wanted to cry and wanted to vomit at how cruel the entire situation was. Geoff never smiled when he worked, instead his eyes were hooded and gl assy. It was like he didn’t see Jeremy; the person - only Jeremy; the subject. 

Jeremy knew he would never hav e the luxury of leaving this place. This is where he was going to die, at the hands of his faux father figure. He was barely alive, only holding on by a weak heartbeat, and a Boston-made st omachful of spite.

Lindsay sighed from the back of the room, “Finish it up now. We need to go and take care of the aftermath. The others will have questions.”

Geoff looked back at her and hummed in agreement, before turning back to revel in his masterpiece, “How long do we have?”

“No updates from the Twins or Matt in a while, but no alarms were raised. We should be fine.” Lindsay told him, flicking through the information on her tablet with interest. Geoff sighed and traced his knife over one of his more delicately carved lacerations. 

“Looks li ke your time’s up , Jeremy.” Geoff said, and if Jeremy didn’t know any better, he would have said that Geoff regarded him with  _ kind  _ eyes. Jeremy couldn’t even cry at that. It felt like too much of a blessing that this would all be over soon. He needed it to be over. He didn’t care. He wanted it to be quick. Let him die. Let him die. Let him die. Let him die. Please. Please. Please. Please.  _ Please. _

_ Kill me. _

“How’d you wanna do it? Let him bleed out? Or gun to the head?”

“No. You’re right. I’ve had my fun. Pass me my gun will you?” Geoff asked, reaching a hand back towards Lindsay who rolled her eyes at the request and grabbed the gun from the table, walking over and handing it to him. 

“Finally. You know, I actually want to get some sleep tonight.” Lindsay quipped, and inexplicably gave Jeremy a lighthearted  _ ‘This guy, am I right?’  _ look.

Jeremy wanted to scream.

“You ready to die, Dooley?” Geoff asked him.

He couldn’t reply, not even if he wanted to. He was so tired.  _ Let me go. _

“Geoff-”

He held up a finger to Lindsay and got in Jeremy’s face, whatever strength he had left was used to flinch away from him. “I wanna hear him say it. Tell me you want to die.”

“...”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“...”

“I want you to crave death, Jeremy. I’m really doing this as a mercy. Death will be a sweet release for you.” 

“...”

Lindsay sighed and tapped her watch, gesturing for him to hurry up. Geoff clenched his jaw and grabbed the back of Jeremy’s head, pulling his head up so that they were looking each other in the eyes. Jeremy weakly opened his eyes to look at him, “I won’t let you die until you say it.”

“P-Ple-” he said, shakily. His voice was raw from screaming. He couldn’t breath.  _ Please end this.  _ “Ple-Please. K-kill… me.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

_ “Please.” _

Geoff stood up straight, dropping his head and letting it flop, “As you wish.”

Geoff raised the gun to Jeremy’s head and a deafening  _ bang  _ when through the air.

…

…

…

…

_ Am I dead? _

His ears rang and his heart thudded. He was still alive.

_ No. _

_ No. _

_ Please. _

There was a commotion. Men shouting, threats being hurled and someone was crying. 

“I’ve got you.”

_ No. Kill me- _

“You’re gonna be okay.”

Jeremy was worse than they had imagined. His body was mutilated, thousands upon thousands of entangled cuts and carving were etched into his body like a drawing. From this dista nce it almost looked like lace; a red, delicate line surrounding Jeremy’s entire body. Gavin gagged at his side and almost immediately Michael raised his gun in disgust at… at  _ them. _

The two of them, both looking too surprised to see him, had blood on their hands, quite too literally. Geoff was covered in Jeremy’s blood, like he had bathed in it. Whereas Lindsay only had his blood speckling her dress.

_ I love it! I’ll wear it right now. Happy Valentine’s Day, Michael. I love you. _

Michael flinched and switched bet ween aiming his gun at Lindsay or at Geoff. “Get the  _ fuck  _ away from him!”

“Michael--” Lindsay stuttered, her face pale. Her eyes graced his face and took in the numerous cuts he had gotten from making his way through the other members of B Team. “Michael, it’s not what it looks like. Jeremy, he’s--”

_ “Shut up.”  _ Michael spat, unable to look at her. Gavin had made his way over to Jeremy, and he had ripped off his shirt, tore it into strips, making makeshift bandages for him. All the while Gavin spoke to him in hurried whispers. 

“Michael.” Geoff said, his voice calm, juxtaposing his shaky hands and tremble.  “Michael, it really isn’t what you think.”

_ “I said ‘shut up’!”  _ Michael screamed, his voice cracking despite himself. His hands were shak ing, the grip on his gun becoming lax.

Lindsay took a step forward and for a moment all Michael wanted to do was let her in. To let her hold him as he struggled to find his breath and to forget everything, to go back to what it was like before. He craved so desperately for her to kiss him and to tangle her fingers in his hair, soothing him. But he couldn’t. She had  _ lied _ to him. To them all. And they had broken their little family beyond repair. “No--” he whimpered, taking a step away from her. He shook his head and looked into her eyes, quietly pleading with her to tell him it was all a fake. That they were joking, or  _ something. _

“We never meant for anyone to get hurt, this-- He’s a part of something bigger, that you don’t know about. Michael,  _ please. _ ” she begged, getting close enough that she was able to reach forward and stroke his hair, bringing her hand down to cup his jaw and  _ God.  _ The warmth of her hand after everything… It was heaven. “Michael… You can’t trust him. He and his family, they’ve hurt the Fakes in ways that you don’t know. You  _ can’t trust him _ . But--” she cut herself off and Michael lowered his gun, transfixed by her, “You can trust  _ me. _ ”

_ “Michael!” _

Gavin’s voice cut through the air like a knife, ripping Michael out of his exhausted trance. Michael’s focus travelled to Gavin and felt his stomach lurch at the sight. He was struggling with the nearly-dead Jeremy, his fingers on the man’s pulse. Jeremy was riddled with bandages Gavin had made him, but it didn’t seem like it would be enough. “But… But he’s our friend.” Michael said quietly, eyes on the passed out man.

“Men like him will never be our friend.” Geoff told him suddenly and Michael snapped his head towards him.

“He’s our  _ family! _ ”

Gavin, ever the level headed one, looked at Geoff and narrowed his eyes, “What do you mean ‘men like him’?”

Geoff lifted his chin and snarled, “The Dooley Clan.”

“You…” Gavin mused, in shock, “You’re the ones who drove him out of Boston?  _ Why? _ ”

“It’s for revenge.” Lindsay told them, eyes downcast, “The Dooley Clan were the ones responsible for Ray’s death.”

“Jeremy killed Ray?” Michael asked, confused and a little hurt.

“No, his father did.” Lindsay informed his gently, hand ghosting over Michael’s arm.

Michael shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “So, you mean to tell me. You two endangered the Fakes’ safety, revealing everyone’s identity to the public . Almost killed Ryan.  Terrified us. Cause tensions in the ranks. And made it so that nothing will  _ ever  _ be the same again for  _ revenge _ . And it’s not even revenge on the right person.”

Geoff glared at him, “ _ He  _ caused all of this strife! None of this would have ever happened if it wasn’t for--”

“You!” Michael roared back at him, “ _ You _ did this to us! In obsessively seeking revenge you tore this family apart bit by bit.  _ Do you not see that?!  _ Did you not see how much we  _ fucking _ cared about Jeremy?! Or did you just not care?!”

“Michael--!” Lindsay started, but he shrugged her off. Suddenly her warm touch burned like acid and left his skin stinging. He just wanted to go home.

Michael walked over to Jeremy and slung one of his arms around his shoulder, Gain following suit and slinging the other arm over his own shoulder. “We’re leaving.” Michael told them, eyes to the ground. “Cerberus, The Twins and Bragg are dead. You two should leave before the police arrive.”

Gavin turned to him in shock, “Michael- We can’t just let them go. Look at what they did to him.”

Michael just flinched and and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m letting you two go, because I still have a shred of decency in me that you two seem to lack. But make no mistake.” He turned to them, eyes burning and back upright, “If I ever see you two in my city ever again, I will not hesitate to shooting you myself. This is the City of Th e Fakes, and you two are traitors.”

Geoff gaped at him, “You can’t just-”

Lifting his chin in a challenge, Michael dared Geoff to even begin to argue with him, “This is  _ my  _ city. Th e Fakes are  _ my  _ family. You broke them and beat them down, but they’re still alive. And they’re gonna be fucking pissed when they find out what you did. You are  _ not _ welcome here.”

Gavin said nothing to his side, but he felt the man straighten his back, looking Lindsay and Geoff square in the eye.

“Like I said. We’re leaving. As are you.” Michael gave them one last look, his eyes lingering on Lindsay, before turning and hobbling towards the door. He heard Lindsay let out one, lone sob behind him and he felt his heart seize in his chest. But he didn’t allow himself to look back. He couldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! Trick or Treat? You decide! *evil laugh* I suppose this chapter is a mixture of both, huh? I am sorry to anyone who like Trevor, Alfredo and Matt you uh- drew the short straw with this fic. Obviously with this chapter I'll need to add a 'Character Death' tag to the fic, so the people who read it in the future will see it and be warned. Y'all don't get that luxury though, sorry ^^; Shoutout to ArtlessComedic for leaving your comments, I got them while editing this chapter and they made me laugh a lot. Epilogue next time. And that'll be my last update on this fic :( Sad times. New projects ahead! And lots of fun to be had. I hope y'all aren't too distraught after this chapter not to enjoy some sweets and scary movies. Spook you later! *ghost noises*


	12. Chapter 12

_ “To say goodbye is to die a little.”  _ _  
_ _ ―  _ **_Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye_ **

* * *

_ Beep. _

 

_ Beep. _

 

_ Beep. _

 

_ Beep. _

 

_ Grunt. _

He cracked open his eyes and stared out at the world. White, clean walls stared back. Where was he? He… He hurt. He turned his head to the side with monumental effort, wincing at he went. He was so  _ stiff _ , his whole body felt like plywood, why…?

There was a bouquet of flowers next to him on a small wooden bedsid e table; forget-me-nots, delicate and a bright icy blue. There was an alarm clock proudly reading the time: 7:32pm. An assortment of hospital apparatus stood calmly next to the bedside table, beeping steadily. Numbers and letters littered the m achines but he couldn’t focus on any of them. He drew his tired eyes back down to the table and blinked curiously at a primly folded note. There was a name printed carefully in bright blue ink. His mind registered the name immediately, recognising it.

_ ‘Jeremy’. _

His name. Jeremy Dooley.

Jeremy bl inked, eyelids stiff. Grains of sleep irritating the corners on his eyes. Groaning, he attempted to reach up a hand and rub them away, only for his movements to be stopped by a large, heavy cast. He looked down in surprise and saw that the majority of his body was wrapped in pure, white bandages. Hands, arms, legs and chest were bound. It was  only then that he registered the dull ache encasing his entire being, pressing in on him like a hand gripping into his flesh. He gasped as his chest restricted and his heart quickened, flashes of a manic grin and countless bloodied blades swirling into his mind’s eye.

Almost immediately, a woman scurried into his view, her brow furrowed. “Mr Dooley? Mr Dooley can you hear me? I need you to breathe for me, Mr Dooley.”

Another voice, far to his left, and quiet, “He’s awake?”

“Yes, sir. Though he’s panicking.” the woman replied to the unknown person, and plucked a small device from the bedside table, turning the dial and sighing. “His pain meds died down a little in his sleep, making him wake up. I’ll give him another boost. It’s too so on for him to be awake.”

“We should take this as progress. He could have been brain dead after losing that much blood. We should be grateful that he’s even alive.” the voice told her gently, more like a whisper.

Resigned, the woman stood up straight and turned to them and nodded, “Yes, Mr Dooley.”

“I’ll inform them of this development, I’m sure they’d love to know.”

Jeremy whined at the back of his throat and closed his eyes, his mind slowly fading back to darkness.

* * *

The next time he awoke, his mind was clearer.

This time, he knew immediately that he was in a hospital of some kind, though most likely a private one. The hallways outside his room were silent. All he could hear was the gentle thrum of the air con mixed with the continuous beeping of his heart monitor. Very quietly, there was the sound of someone humming. 

Jeremy blinked his eyes open and turned his head again, this time anticipating the stiffness of his body and preparing himself. Jeremy blinked at his company and took a moment to register who he saw. In a small blue armchair, playing with a small Lego set, was Kat. His heart thrummed at the sight of her and he felt small pinpricks of tears gather in his eyes. 

The heart rate monitor sped up in reaction to Jeremy’s heart doing the same and Kat looked up from her work in alarm, moving her gaze from the heart monitor and then, finally, to Jeremy. They locked eyes and Jeremy felt himself unable to breathe. She was saying something, he could hear, but he was too overwhelmed to think. The only thing he could register was her, and the fact that  _ she was safe. _

He was acutely aware that he was babbling, words slurred from the medication and from exhaustion, but she was there. She was  _ there.  _ Beautiful as ever, with no makeup, her hair scraped into a bun and her eyes tired. She was there,  _ here. _

Jeremy tried to move his hand and she reached up her own to stop him from moving, but he instead just interlaced his fingers with hers, clutching as hard as he could in his state.

Kat was shushing him, her other hand resting on his cheek, her thumb gently stroking over his jawline. He openly sobbed in her hands, pressing his face against her hand. His senses worked overtime to register everything and anyt hing about her. Starved for her presence, desperate for her touch, he hiccupped as he wailed, feeling the bed sink as she sat next to him, laying down by his side.

* * *

It was later, much later, when Jeremy was dehydrated and aching from how overwhelmed Kat’s return had rendered him, when they finally talked. Jeremy had a large plastic cup of water he was cradling in his right hand,  while his left was in Kat’s own hand. He was quietly sipping at it as she told him what had happened. How scared she had been when his name was released to the public as not only being alive, but being the newest member of the most dangerous crime syndicate in the country. How his family had reacted, how desperate his father was to find him. How scared everyone had been when Jeremy had disappeared, how they didn’t understand what had happened. The ominous notes left by a stranger, now known to be Lindsay. The ransom for his life.

There were gaps in Jeremy’s understanding of what happened that night. Everything was a little blurry after Geoff reached his third knife.

“How did you find me?” he asked, his voice dry and raspy.

Kat ran her thumb over his knuckles, and she bit her lip, “You were sent to us.”

Jeremy looked at her, confused, “Sent…?”

“After your father found out you were in the City, he got into his private plane and got there as fast as her could. He was so scared. Once he touched land,… He got a call. From the Fakes.” She looked at him, her large brown eyes scanning over his scarred face with worry, “They gave him a location and they gave you to him.”

“Who…?” Jeremy asked, his voice high and child-like. Kat sighed and Jeremy ducked his head regretfully, “They… they must have been heartbroken.” he said, voice distant. “Are they safe?”

Kat looked down at their interlaced hands and narrowed her eyes, “I… I don’t know and--” she let out a gasped of frustration, raising her eyes to look at him fiercely, “And I don’t care. All I care about is that they gave you back to me. Alive.”

Jeremy looked at his broken and beaten body in disgust, “Barely.”

“But you’re still alive.” she said, her voice breaking and tears springing to her eyes, “They could have given you back to me with two new heads and sixteen arms and I would have thanked them personally. There’s nothing anyone else could do to you that would make me love you any less.” 

Kat leaned in and carefully kissed Jeremy for the first time since he had disappeared, hand ghosting over the many fresh cuts that graced every surface on his skin like a sick tattoo. Beside them, the forget-me-nots sat in their small vase, silently dying.

* * *

Two months after he  had awoken for the first time, Jeremy had learnt almost all of the events from that night.

He was currently in a private hospice, owned and curated by the Dooley family. It resembled a rather sweet, large, cabin. Used usually by the elderly and severely injured family members, it could also house friends and allies after direct permission from Jeremy’s father. There was a limited amount of staff, barely twen ty people all who were sworn to serve the family by any means necessary. It was located in a section of privately owned land in the corner of Massachusetts, surrounded by acres of woodland and country, and far away from any civilisation.

It was peaceful, it was quiet and it was relaxing. And so naturally, Jeremy hated it.

“We’ll be able to leave soon enough.” Kat told him, near daily.

“Yeah, well ‘soon enough’ can’t come soon enough.” He would reply, bitterly. 

Jeremy wasn’t allowed to go anywhere unsupervised, lest he get kidnapped once again, excluding the toilet and the shower. But even then, it wasn’t guaranteed that he’d be left alone. His favourite place in the building was a small balcony at the back of the building that looked out over a vast clear lake. He liked to sit there and take in the sights, watching for any animals that would brave the open area to drink or wash in the water. Usually, Kat was by his side, but on days where she couldn’t be there, or when she was at work, he was left with a staff member.

The staff were kind to him, mostly. Other times they just wouldn’t speak to him, either too scared or too professional to engage with him. Quietly, he wished for the nonsense chaos Gavin and Michael brought, or even just the easy company of Ryan , or the sweet care of Jack. Other times the thought of the Fakes scared him. 

There hadn’t been any contact from them since that night.

Except…

The weight of the unopened letter on his bedside buried itself into his heart. The calm cursive of his name on that folded piece of paper heavy and pressin g into his brain. Its ink sunk into his mind like a crashed ship in open water. 

They had contacted him before he had even woken up, he just hadn’t paid attention. 

Jeremy shuddered, finding himself blaming it on the chill of the evening, rather than the chill in his heart. He would read it another time.

* * *

The media hadn’t stopped talking about that night, despite time moving on.

Jeremy tended to watch it every day, hoping on some level that something new would break about the Fakes, about new activity or new footage. But there was never anything. 

His own father had broken the Dooley’s silence and had spoken to the news about Jeremy, claiming that his son’s disappearance and his involvement with the Fakes were connected. That they somehow tricked his  son - his  _ innocent  _ son - into working for their clearly corrupted organisation. He was trying to paint Jeremy as a victim with out even talking to him about it. Without even seeing if he was okay.

The cuts were healing, though scars were inevitable. He would sometimes catch Kat’s eyes drifting to follow the deep cut patterns on his arms and flinch away from her gaze, wanting to  hide away and cover them up. 

“They’re ugly.” he would say. Kat would kiss away his new found insecurities, and it would usually work.

Usually.

Jeremy had been moved to a different room; less of a hospital room and more of a bedroom. It had simplistic, homey decor and  a large cream coloured bed for him to sleep in. He liked this room, it felt comfortable and safe, which was the vibe of the entire building. Though they had made one major mistake by placing a tall mirror in the corner of his room.  Every  time he went in there, he got an unavoidable look at how disgusting he looked.

The cuts, which were as present as ever, were crusted over and scabbing. Dark red and brown lines littering his body like an intricate lace pattern. Some parts of his body had circular cuts and carefully laid incisions. Other parts of his body had violent, sharp cuts, which had been made more enthusiastically and frantically. He raised his hand and ran and finger over one of the deeper cuts on his shoulder, one so deep that it concerned doctor’s over the future of his mobility in his arm. The cut started from his shoulder blade and went over his shoulder and stood in the dip of his collarbone, almost like the fake joints of an action figure.

He covered the mirror with a sheet.

Kat didn’t question it.

* * *

The letter was still unopened when news finally broke about the Fakes, and the news was delivered to him by none other than his own father.

It had been another month, making it three months of silence on all ends, and three months of quiet healing for Jeremy. It was nearing Christmas time and the lake had frozen over. The surrounding woodland was covered in an untouched sheet of snow. Jeremy hated it. He wasn’t allowed to go out onto the balcony any more, as it was too icy and there was a danger of falling. Not that he would have wanted to go outside in that weather. As Christmas approached so did the year anniversary of his disappearance and subsequent arrival in the City. 

Hi s phone (new, and without the contacts of the Fakes) buzzed by his side as he lay in bed one afternoon. He had a call coming in.

Jeremy checked the caller ID and sighed, swiping his finger across the phone to answer it, “Hey, Dad.”

_ “Jeremy. Are you well?” _

Jeremy brought his free hand up to his face and looked at his fading cuts, deep red scars replacing them, “Physically?”

_ “Jeremy.” _

“The smaller cuts are healed up completely, only a few deeper ones are still here.” he sighs, his father’s clipped small tone informing him not to cheek him. “All in all, I’m getting better.  Can I leave yet?”

Then it was his father’s turn to sigh,  _ “You can’t leave until the interest around the situation dies down, Jeremy.” _

_ ‘If it ever dies down,’  _ Jeremy couldn’t help but think, his frustration rising. “Did you want something?” he asked, barely containing the frustration in his voice.

His father pauses for a moment.  _ “There was a sighting of one of the Fakes near Austin.” _

Jeremy’s heart thudded against his chest.

Instantly he sat up, wide awake and focused on every word his father said. “Which one?” Jeremy asked, almost breathlessly.

_ “Jones and Free.” _

“They’re together?!” Jeremy shouted.

_ “Apparently. Which means the likelihood of the others being close by is tenfold.”  _

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair and thought quickly. Austin… Jack had said something about being from Austin once, maybe they’re staying with Jack’s family? Or maybe in Jack old home? He pressed his ear to his shoulder to keep his phone in place while he ran around his room looking for a pen and paper, writing down what his father was saying.

“Whereabouts were they seen? What were they doing?” Jeremy asked in one breath and his father paused. 

_ “Ramsey was from the South too. And his female companion.” _

Jeremy paused and felt his heart grow cold, “What?”

_ “In fact, I believe Mrs Jones is from Dallas, only a few hours from Austin. They could have been headed there.” _

“They wouldn’t--” Jeremy started, his heart thudding loudly in his ears, “They wouldn’t be doing that.” Silently, his brain unhelpfully supplied a small bit of information Kat had told him.

_ “What about… What about Geoff and Lindsay?” he had asked, almost in a whisper. _

_ Kat shuffled awkwardly, “No one knows. They disappeared after that night, went into hiding. Or at least, we assume they did. Any contacts the Dooley have with them are now cut and no one has seen them.” _

_ “So they’re still out there.” Jeremy said, voice low. _

_ Kat reached out to take his hand, misunderstanding his tone for fear, “They won’t be able to find you, Jeremy. You’re safe here.” _

_ Jeremy smiled at her, but in the back of his mind he couldn’t help but think about how she got it all wrong. He wasn’t scared. _

_ He was furious. _

Snapping back to the present, Jeremy heard his father laugh at him,  _ “Who's to say they wouldn’t? Do you really think Jones would abandon his wife that easily?” _

Jeremy stayed quiet.

He could hear his father let out a long, suffering sigh on the other end, as if merely caring for his son’s well being was tedious to him.  _ “Jeremy. Stay inside, get better and let us deal with the Fakes. Do not, I repeat, do not do anything stupid.” _

Jeremy clenched his jaw and stared at the ceiling. “Okay.”

_ “Promise me.” _

A beat.

“I promise.”

* * *

It was the night before Christmas when Jeremy decided to read the letter.

The letter felt heavier than ever in his hands that night, the new knowledge that they were out of hiding at the forefront of his mind. The space around the letter seemed to distort and stretch, as if it was bending the space around it by being so densely heavy and present in Jeremy’s mind. Shaking, he ran a finger over the scrawl of his name, feeling how the paper dipped slightly in the strokes of the pen from the force the writer had used.

* * *

_ Jeremy _

_ I am leaving you this note  _ _ for you to read when you wake up. If you wake up. We aren’t allowed to see you. Your family are furious at the Fakes. We didn’t have any involvement in what happened to you, but they don’t trust us right now. Our faces, our names and our lives have been put out into the world and suddenly we find ourselves weak and vulnerable. Easy to exploit, these are the times for us to remain hidden. I’m so sorry, Jeremy. You must believe me when I say that there is nothing I want more than to see you awake and to know that you’re okay, but the world will not allow that.  _

_ Your story plays on the news every day. You were taken, stolen by the Fakes and used for our profit all while ransoming you to your family. You are presented as a victim in all of this - I am furious that the media don’t see how strong you are. Please don’t be dismayed and burdened by these turn of events. Those who love you know your true strength.  _

_ As I mentioned earlier, we have been in hiding since that night. With cameras and spies everywhere we suddenly found ourselves priority targets with more heat on us than we ever have before. The people of the City have turned, seeing us _ _ as real threats finally and our status as unbreakable figures has crumbled. Now we are just like them, easy to hurt and easy to kill. We ran from the City as fast as we could. We are somewhere safe now, you’ll forgive me for not disclosing exactly where just yet, I do not know just how trustworthy our messenger is. Though, you certainly seem to like her. I also gave her some gifts as an apology not only to you, but to her. She really is a wonderful woman. You are very lucky.  _

_ As for how we all are… _

_ Free remains by Jones’ side, though that was to be expected. He has been of the utmost h _ _ elp in evading the outside world. He keeps us invisible, he keeps us safe. Though… he is quiet. The events of that night have left him  _ _ jaded and sad. Free hasn’t spoken much to me but I don’t think he is keeping his feelings locked away as every now and again I will walk past his room and here him gently whispering to Jones, telling him everything. I respect that they need their space to grieve the loss of… I do understand why they’re so distant, though I do wish they would talk to me about this. _

_ The Vagabond disappeared into the night with nothing but an apology. Free informed me bitterly that he has probably left to see his family, of which I just learnt he had. Though he isn’t silent. Before he left he asked for our safe house’s location should he return and has since sent just under a dozen short messages, usually with nothing of note, just to tell us he’s still alive. I dread the day the messages stop. _

_ Jones hasn’t spoken a word since that night, though he hasn’t distanced himself. He helps me _ _ with preparing our meals and will hunt for fish and game when our food store runs low, he sometimes brings Free with him to pick berries and herbs, for company or just for help I don’t know, but _ _ I think he enjoys not being alone. _

_ We don’t mention her to him. And we don’t mention… him. It’s hard, for all of us. And I imagine, it’s hard for you too.  _

_ Ramsey… He got away, with Mrs Jones. By the time police arrived on the scene all they found were the bodies of Trevor, Alfredo and Matt, and your blood. That and a mountain of evidence supporting your father’s claims that you were taken by Ramsey and Mrs Jones which… you were. Wherever they are now, they’re laying low. If I know Ramsey (and I do), he’s likely to treat this plan as a failure and lay low until the heat is gone, but as long as your father keeps feeding the flames against the Fakes, you’re safe. But we are not. _

_ Their betrayal damaged us all in different ways. _

_ It broke Jones’ heart. _

_ It isolated Free. _

_ It made The Vagabond a stranger. _

_ It left you to die. _

_ And me? It tore apart my family. _

_ Jeremy, I’m writing this letter because… well, because I’m sorry. I’m sorry that we forced you to join the Fakes when you first arrived in the City. That we didn’t stop when you expressed fear at being found by your tormentor. That we promised you safety. When in actuality, we led you right to them, and put you and ourselves in incredible danger.  _

_ I was blinded by my love for Ramsey, it denied me the ability to see how twisted he had become. I keep telling myself that the man who hurt you wasn’t my friend, wasn’t the man I adored. But it was. It is. And my denial does nothing but hurt you. My memories of him are tainted by the hindsight of where it was all leading. Every word he ever said to me has a new weight to it, innocent phrases turned sinister with the image of him looming over you with that knife in his hand. _

_ Oh… I’m sorry. My tears have smudged my writing. _

_ I don’t even know if you’re alive right now. I could be writing this letter to a dead man. _

_ I hope not. _

_ We… we love you. And we miss you. _

_ And we are so, so sorry you ever met us. _

_ I have hope that we might meet again. Though, I’m scared to admit that if that day comes, something terrible may happen. So please, stay away. Stay safe.  _

_ Be a Dooley and forget about the Fakes. _

_ We’ll only cause you harm. _

_ Farewell, my friend and my brother. _

_ Pattillo. _

* * *

The time ticked over to midnight and the tinny digital bells of his alarm clock chimed delicately. It was Christmas Day. Jeremy lay on his bed, and stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadow of snowfall cascade down the walls. Strangely, his eyes were dry and his heart was numb. The weight of the letter had dissipated and had instead settled into Jeremy’s chest, making his sink into the mattress, suffocating him.

Somewhere downstairs he could hear the hospice workers laughing to themselves and singing merrily, no doubt imbued with the holiday spirit and most likely warmed by the spiced mulled wine he had smelt being stewed. He could almost laugh at how his mood contrasted theirs, how he was no doubt having the third worst day of his life while they were living their best.

He sat up and looked out to the window that led to the balcony. Jeremy slowly walked towards the glass pane, sliding it open, not even shivering from the blast of bitter cold that nipped at his exposed flesh. He walked out, the crunch of fresh snow under his bare feet, and rested his hands on the railing. Jeremy looked up at the dark night sky and blinked, his eyes suddenly prickling from the dry winter air. 

Jeremy sighed, watching his breath cloud out and disappear.

“Merry Christmas, guys.” he whispered to himself, and silently hoping that wherever they were, The Fakes heard him.

* * *

Elsewhere, in a glittering city, a man stood by an open door, almost invisible in the shadows. In the apartment, was a beautiful woman. She was dressed in a sheer robe, watching the snowfall with calm eyes. “I know you’re there.” she said suddenly. Lifting her arm she revealed a small, dainty silver revolver, pointing it at the concealed man. “Come out, and show yourself, sweetie.”

Stepping out of the darkness and into the moonlight, Ryan Haywood raised his hands in surrender, eyes dark and tired.

Her eyes widen at his compliance, though she wasn’t surprised to see him, “The Vagabond in my home. To what do I owe this pleasure?” She ducked her head slightly to look at him over the top of her glasses, a smirk appearing on her face.

“I need help.” he told her.

“My help? Whatever for?” 

He walked closer, hands lowering. She did the same, lowering her gun in intrigue. Slowly, he pulled out a phone and lit up the screen showing her two faces, “I need your help to find Geoff Ramsey and Lindsay Jones.” he said with grim determination. “And kill them.”

“Now that,” Meg Turney said, a cat like grin spreading across her face, “I can do.”

* * *

 

_ The time has come for closing books and long last looks must end _

_ And as I leave I know that I am leaving my best friend _

_ A friend who taught me right from wrong and weak from strong _

_ That's a lot to learn, but what can I give you in return? _

 

_ The End. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And at long last, we have arrived to our final destination.
> 
> What a wild ride this story has been. With no exaggeration I can say that I am a completely different person from who I was at the start of this story. I began in November 2017 and finished in December 2018 making this story just over a year old. And what a crazy year it's been online and offline. I don't know if you could tell, but I went though a lot of heartbreak this year, in fact the day that I started to write this story a very good friend of mine had a suicide attempt and I was the one to call the ambulance to get to him. Then later on in the year I lost another close friend after he did something unfathomable and ended up cutting ties with him. Which is when these chapters started to get dark.
> 
> It was only in hindsight that I realised just how much of my own feelings I was putting into this story. The way the Fakes talked about Ray, their complicated feelings of guilt and grief pushed aside or consumed whole. The scene in Chapter 6 between Jeremy and Gavin was written on a particularly sad night when my negativity was at it's peak, but the scene between Michael and Jeremy a few chapters later with Michael 'tough loving' his way into Jeremy's heart to make him feel better was also a reflection of real life at the time, as I was forcing myself to get up and get going, and to not spend any more time wallowing. 
> 
> It's been nice, to have this story to vent with, like a diary. But it's unfortunate that my need for it has declined. I feel happier, safer and less lonely. Which means I no longer need to use this as a tool to vent. Which means Jeremy and the Fakes' story has come to an end.
> 
> Or has it...?
> 
> I want to express my immense amount of appreciation for my friends who read through each chapter and told me how excited they were for the next one, without you I probably would have stopped a long time ago. I almost did abandon this story at one point, and it was only a friend of mine telling me out of the blue that she loved this story that made me want to finish it. 
> 
> Specifically, I would like to say a big thank you to Ellie for proofreading this story and telling me frequently how much it makes her sad. I don't know what this story would look like without your help. 
> 
> And another big thank you to Selena and Tori on twitter (or the C Team as I jokingly called us) for entertaining me endlessly with your livetweets of this story. It really does make me laugh, despite how much you want to kill me after every chapter.
> 
> And to you, reader. Thank you for deciding to come to my little corner of the internet and actually sticking it out to the end. You are appreciated and I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> I'm rambling now so, in the wise words of Anthony Mackie: CUT THE CHECK!
> 
> \- Lola Gomez
> 
> PS: I posted this in the first chapter's note but if you haven't already, check out Sami Jen's artwork for this story here! http://samijen.tumblr.com/post/171558843041/commissioned-by-roosterteethshit-for-nanowrimo


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